Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice
by queerelenagilbert
Summary: /"Are you going to kill me, Cammie?" I hissed, not even hesitating to point the gun. My arms didn't shake. My heart didn't pound. I was eerily calm. And then I pulled the trigger./ Follow Cammie through Georgetown University, where her friends are spread across the world and her old enemies are getting closer. Post UWS.
1. one

**Hey guys, this is Brooke with another story. This is my first fanfiction for Gallagher Girls since I recently reread the first four books and got around the finishing the series and I am pumped with so many ideas. This is a sort of continuation to where UWS ended with Cammie at Georgetown. I also would like to point out that while I've researched the Georgetown campus, many facts in this story are made up and products of my imagination. These facts very much include the information on the various government agencies mentioned in this story since all my knowledge of that comes from these books and multiple television shows. Here's the first chapter and I hope you enjoy! **

**Please, please do leave a review so I know if I'm doing justice and what you'd like to read in further updates! - Brooke xx**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Ally Carter. I don't own copyright to canon Gallagher Girls series material and only own creative and intellectual property.**

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**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter One**

Let me tell you something most movies, television shows or academic websites don't tell you.

When you're a college student, you wish Monday mornings started at noon.

When you're a spy, who just got in at sunrise after a weekend of running on train roofs, you wish Monday mornings started at 2 pm.

When you're a spy who just got in at sunrise, _and _a college student who has class in two hours? You wish Mondays didn't exist.

Now, I won't go into multiple hypothetical scenarios of the various kinds of people who dread Mondays (because _everyone _dreads Mondays) but with the knowledge of school being only 20 minutes away and my body still sore and aching, I really was tempted to miss my first class. But I didn't have a choice in the matter. My bosses had done more than enough to give me valid backing up for missing classes when I was whisked away on missions – to be allowed to remain in the university, I had to attend every class I was present for.

My head was resting against the passenger side window, breath fogging the pane. Locks of my hair stuck to it from static, creating an illusion of cracks and slivers of dark brown. Gone was the dishwater blonde hair, replaced with a Macey McHenry worthy dye job in chestnut. The fingers on my right hand fiddled with the mist, creating patterns on it. My left hand was tightly clutching the hand of the driver – the person who had done said train roof jumping with me and also been the one to hum in my ear afterwards when I was trying to fall asleep.

"Why do all these banquets and galas have to happen on the weekends?" I groaned, turning my head to look at my partner in spying and boyfriend for – well who knows how long? Technically, we'd never gotten together on a particular day. We had no anniversary; no actual proposals; no date on which we stopped being "that guy/girl who shows up everywhere they shouldn't be" and started being "boy/girlfriend". We were not involved, and then we _were _involved and the time in between seemed to have blurred pretty well. I suppose if someone wanted to get in technicalities, you could say it had been a little over a year since I graduated from Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women (actually spies, and also sole male graduate who – you guessed it – was driving the car I was in.)

Zach chuckled, eyes not veering off the road for even a second.

"You should be grateful you don't have to miss as many classes, or you'd be knee deep in all sorts of excuses. Legends are most believable only – "

"- only when they're mere warping of reality. Yeah, I know, I know. But _you _try staying awake in Probability and Statistics. Especially when you already know that stuff from your eighth grade final." And from having Liz Sutton as your former roommate_, _but I didn't mention that.

"Go have a strong cup of coffee and a shower, and you'll be fine."

I made an irritated noise that sounded less like a person trained to knock you out and more like a drowning cat. Zach chuckled again, squeezing my hand tighter. We stayed that way for a few more minutes before he pulled over, two miles from my residence hall. From there, it was a walk that I was well used to. In many ways, it was like being back at Gallagher all over again.

"Are you alright?" Zach asked, and I completely expected the question. He always asked. This conversation was routine.

"Yes. Bruises are covered and scrapes on the mend," I responded, shuffling through the glove compartment for the tiny lens case.

"Are _you _okay?" he asked, pulling out the key from ignition and reaching behind for my bottle of water and sneakers.

"Mhm," came my reply as I put in the film of bright blue lenses to cover my duller, hazel eyes. With my slightly less _chameleon _appearance, I felt like Macey. It was probably the eyes. It could also be my cover story.

I unzipped the heavy jacket I had on, shedding my layers one by one until I was sitting in a sports bra and the same sweatpants I'd worn on the plane. Kicking off my boots, I took the sneakers and slid them on. I could feel Zach's eyes travelling over my exposed physique. If I'd still been a sixteen year old girl questioning her feelings, I'd have blushed. But I was now his long term, almost twenty year old girlfriend who went to a co-ed college. I was past the blushing stage.

Still, I acknowledged his gaze by pressing pause on the appearance change and turning to face him. His eyes snapped up to mine, twinkling like unseen stars in the dark sky. Sometimes, he was still that sophomore I'd met in this very city. Sometimes, he felt like he'd aged by a decade.

We reached for each other at the same time, his fingers skimming my aching ribs, mine running along the gash on his chin. We held each other for a few seconds, kissing, whispering sweet nothings, teasing. We were almost a normal college couple. Then I opened up my hair, letting it cascade over my faint scrapes. A long cut lay on my brow, covered by bangs that I had _still _not mastered the art of cutting and styling.

He kissed me again, lips lingering over mine for a few more seconds before he winked and waved goodbye. I got out of the car, tucking my bottle in the side of my backpack before breaking into a sprint. I faintly heard the car drive away in the distance as I propelled closer to my new home.

"Let me guess. Morning jog," came the lilting voice just as I let myself into the apartment. There was the bittersweet scent of coffee and burnt toast in the air as I dropped my backpack.

My roommate Dayna walked out of our room, her bathrobe wrapped tightly around her. A pale pink towel was draped over her arm, her hand clutching her toiletry kit.

"You know it," I said, making a great show of wheezing and panting as I dropped down on the couch. My hair was matted with water as was my face but I'd done this enough to pass it off as sweat.

"Where's your luggage?" she asked as she fiddled with her long hair. It was darker brown and curlier than mine but she'd riddled it with blonde highlights and often straightened it. Her brown eyes, so familiar to ones I once knew, were curious. "Didn't you just get back from your Uncle's? How is he?"

My "Uncle" was the cover story I used when I vanished for weekends. He was supposed to be an old man living all alone on his Virginia estate. Apparently, he was also pretty sick and needed my assistance often.

"Uncle Henry insisted I leave earlier since he was feeling a bit better. So I took an overnight bus and got in pretty late last night. It's all in the room."

She must've not noticed the non-descript brown suitcase I always had shoved under my bed – which is why she probably never even noticed that I never took it on my "visits". If I couldn't be the chameleon here then at least my stuff was.

"You're a deep sleeper_, Daynee_," I said, using the nickname everyone used for her.

"You're like a shadow, _Laurie, _" she responded, using mine. Of course – that was the largest part of being under cover. Legends had _names. _Mine was Lauren Christine Daniels. I was a twenty year old (as of September 14) Psychology student who was a native to Santa Clara, California. I had been part of the debate team in my old school, used to run track and had a black belt in karate. My favorite foods were coffee and sushi, and I had a habit of collecting beer bottle labels of various varieties. I also had an SAT score of 2170, a younger sister named Elizabeth and an Uncle Henry. Other than my age (almost), my major (like I had a choice) and the karate bit, none of this was true (well, except the bit about having a _sister_ named Liz, but _technicalities._)

"Okay, okay, go shower," I waved her off. She nodded, opening the door and ready to slam it. Before she did, she stuck her head back into the apartment and said, "Oh, Carrie and Alex are still sleeping. Wake them up? I told them I would after I showered, but you're back so you can do it. And, I think Craig will be coming over to borrow coffee at some point but tell him it got over."

"Why?"

"Because those two," our other roommates, "are going to be hungover and can use all the extra caffeine they can get their hands on."

As the door slid shut, I pressed a hand to my forehead. I almost wished I was back to having comm units in my ear and the hot desert wind blowing through my hair. But, this was back to the boring part of the job.

Tossing my bag on my bed, I popped open my laptop. As it booted, I reached for the brown suitcase under my bed and took out the receiver I kept in the outer pocket. The laptop screen lit up with a bright picture of me with my hands spread wide and a debate trophy in my hand (obviously, manipulated). Icons of college papers and web bookmarks scattered across my cheery face. Inserting the drive in, I waited for it to connect to the remote network. Almost immediately, the screen went black and rebooted with various layers of security and firewalls. I swiped each finger over the built in fingerprint scanner below the keyboard. Once I bypassed that, I stared at it, watching the modified computer system slide aside the finger print scanner to reveal a retinal scanner. A beam of laser swiped across my eye, before sliding away and revealing a thin pin point. Then I replaced my finger on it and let it prick me, before patiently waiting. The system ran biometrics as I sucked the pad of my finger until the tiny bubble of blood vanished.

My profile lit up, signaling no new activity or messages. This was a good sign. No warnings and messages meant there was nothing to worry about. Not waiting around to stay logged in longer than necessary, I put away the receiver and watched the screen switch back to one befitting a college student. Opening the browser, I checked my email. Again, no new email, other than a bright red '3' blinking next to the Spam folder. I clicked it open, surfing through the various advertisements which had been sent to Lauren Daniels.

_Palm Springs Spas and Resorts invites you to spend Christmas weekend at one of our various properties. Book now! Couple packages valid till November 25__th__!_

I smiled as I read the email from Liz. So she was still in California (Palm Springs) and would be there until December (November + 1). From the looks of it, she'd be there with us by the time New Years came around (she always spent Christmas with her sister Ellie and her parents who had no idea that their scientist daughter was not a researcher at Stanford, but a researcher for a remote CIA research facility, which shall remained unnamed). I opened the next mail.

_Maybelline brings back hot new shades of the matte look – ranging from Ruby Red to Cheesecake Velvet. 25% off, if you call 1800-MAYBE-MATTE._

So, Macey was still in New York, as well (New York Cheesecake). This was no surprise. Her location wasn't _as _confidential since she was involved in protecting the President's daughter. I doubt she'd make it for New Years' Eve. The President probably had plans to stay in the country, family included.

I opened the third one, blinking as a bright orange and blue print took over the page. As my eyes adjusted, an online movie ticket website advertised the new James Bond movie with links to trailers and promo videos.

_Catch 'Down the Angel Falls', releasing worldwide on February 14__th__, in a theatre near you._

I wasn't surprised to see the name of the new movie. That actually was what the next Bond movie was called. It didn't _look _like an encoded message but the James Bond had made me think that it had been from Bex. But I saw nothing in the date (because we all changed codes with every person we contacted). It took me a second to stare at the title before I sat up straight.

_Down the Angel Falls. _A memory played itself behind my eyes of a dark night and teenagers scrambling for air as a waterfall rushed around them, threatening to take them under.

If this message really was as interpreted then – Bex was at Blackthorne? Why? A million possibilities ran through my head. If she'd been at liberty to tell me this then clearly it was no covert operation. She'd gone in through the front doors of the ex-assassin Academy which pretended to be a school for troubled boys. It had to be nothing more than a check in if she was informing me of this via movie trailer spam and no question for clearance. I sighed.

The door to my room opened and I looked up as Carrie stood in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. She was still in the sequined dress she must have worn last night, mascara trails down her cheeks and her short red hair sticking up in five different directions.

"You're back," she said in a heavy voice and then mumbled something about coffee as she slipped away to the kitchen. I shut the laptop lid, standing up and shedding my light sweatshirt. The mirror which hung behind our room door showed that the bruises were invisible. Of course, they were. If someone had me wear shorts, then we'd have a problem. But my torso only showed a sports bra – which lacked any sort of _filling _– and a sweaty but strong abdomen. I walked out of the room and across the hall. Dayna and I had the only double room in the suite, while Carrie and Alex had single ones. Carrie's door was ajar but Alex's was shut tight with a Maroon 5 poster stuck on it. I knocked once before opening it a crack. The curtains were drawn and she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and blaring music from her headphones.

"Oi, time to get ready," I shouted, picking up a cushion from the floor and throwing it at her. She jumped, giving me a menacing look and signaled me to shut the door. I wasn't worried. As long as she was up, she'd get ready. Walking around the apartment, just as Dayna walked back in with her face young and fresh and hair dripping wet, I realized how far I'd come without changing much. Once more it was me, three girls in my life and a million secrets between the four walls of our residence hall.

A knock had Dayna opening the front door she'd just closed and then making a huffing noise as she was shoved out of the way. Alertness and instinct had me bolting to catch her before she tripped or fell, adrenaline making my hair stand on end.

But the shove was barely lethal, only making my roommate (and assignment) stumble. And it was followed by laughter as Craig walked in. He lived two apartments over and looked like he was already ready to begin the day.

"Jackass," Dayna joked, continuing to the kitchen and pouring him a cup of coffee, despite her earlier warning to the contradictory. But her face remained smooth as if she was more than happy to let him borrow the steaming hot liquid. Sometimes I forgot that she was just as good a liar as I was, with just as deep a cover story. Too bad I couldn't exactly compliment her on this since she didn't know _my _cover.

Craig coughed as the scalding liquid scorched his throat, and then eyed me before grinning. "Looking good, Daniels."

And so the morning continued.

Because despite being away from home, and knee deep in lies and away from my family and friends, this Monday morning didn't seem all that shabby.

It was hours later, late in the afternoon, when I sat in the Quadrangle and finished an assignment. It wasn't even so much an assignment as it was paperwork for the weekend, deftly disguised between my Psych textbook. The cool, late autumn breeze swirled around me and I shivered. Winter was fast approaching and I couldn't be more excited for it. Bex's parents had invited us girls and a few more friends over for the holidays. I knew Zach would be there too, as would my Mom, Joe, Abby and Townsend. It would be a reunion in the truest sense of the word (although it was a bit weird that Zach's father figure was now married to my Mom, and his _actual _father would be marrying my aunt. I guess I was just glad that his father hadn't married the other Cameron sister or things would've gotten _pretty _weird. Even for a Gallagher Girl).

I heard him try to sneak up on me long before he actually showed up next to me, his shoes crunching on gravel and the tell tale scent of sulfur hanging around him. I won't lie, the first few times I'd met him and noticed his piqued interest in my roommate, I'd wondered if he was like me. See, given how confidential Dayna's assignment was and how important her cover was, all identities of her body guards were strictly need-to-know. It's why we didn't know each other. And she didn't know us. It was best because if she pretended even for a second that we were anything other than her college mates, and if we let ourselves slip even for a second assuming we were not operating solo, then Dayna could end up dead.

But his lack of stealth skills were in no way forced clumsiness and I'd been forced to admit that he was just a civilian who liked my roommate.

I pretended to be surprised, as he whispered 'Boo' in my ear, jumping a little and dropping my pen on the ground. As I bent down to pick it up, I took the opportunity to slide shut the report I was writing and drop it into my bag as if I was just done with homework.

"Hey Craig," I said, laughing in faux surprise.

"Hey, Daniels – oh hey, what happened to your head?"

I ran a finger over the barely healed cut which my hair was supposed to be covering, wincing.

"I tripped on my Uncle's stairwell."

"Again?"

I was really running out of excuses.

"I always forget that one step needs fixing," I cringed in a _what can you do _way. "And he has too much pride to get someone else to do it for him. I'll have to remember to fix it the next time I'm there."

"You know how to fix a step?"

He sounded skeptical that a girl could do it and I let him run along with his casual sexism. It kept my cover safe.

"Yeah, I took shop in school."

He seemed to buy this easily because he grinned wider.

"Guess what? You remember how Stan and Carter moved out to their own place right? And we wanted to convert their room into a gaming room?" he asked. I nodded as he talked about his ex-suite mates.

"Well they sent in new assignments to his room...so no Xbox next to my walls." It took me a second to remember that despite enjoying gaming, Craig had displayed real frustration at the idea of loud noises through his thin walls. I don't see how this was any better than when Stan and Carter had occupied the room and always had a plethora of guys and girls going in and out of it who kept them up all night with _other _activities.

"One's a transfer sophomore from Moscow. Isn't that cool? He's – hey, Ivan – Ivan, over here," he called out and I followed his gaze to a tall figure who had his back to us. He seemed to be fascinated by the Quadrangle, taking it in like any new student would – like I had.

"Ivan, this is Lauren. Lauren, Ivan Yezhov – did I pronounce that right?" he asked. I laughed and looked down, putting my book away in my bag, knowing that I'd get no paper work done now. However, there was a pair of shoes in my line of sight and I realized I hadn't heard this one approach me at all.

"Nice to meet you, Lauren," came a thick Russian accent in a voice I knew all too well. I looked up in surprise to see my boyfriend standing there, his dark brown hair now dyed black and his dark eyes covered in green lenses. The stubble he'd had this morning had been clean shaved. I felt a flutter of happiness go through me. Was this a dream? Had they assigned Zach to be my neighbor for a reason? I smiled a genuine smile, taking the outstretched hand.

"You too, Ivan." He squeezed my hand for a second before letting it go but his smiling face hid secrets which I recognized all too well.

"Oh and hey, there's Hugh, his roommate," rattled off Craig. "He's just from the other dorms and got bumped up to our very own Henle. Hey Hugh," he waved to someone behind me and I realized, once more, I hadn't heard someone else approach me. A shiver ran down my spine as I turned around to see a mop of ginger hair and freckled face, another hand outstretched before me. But I knew that the ginger dye covered blonde hair, the freckles covered an Athenian worthy face and that hand was one which I had often twisted in P&E throughout a semester of my sophomore year.

"Hello, Hugh," I said, smiling brightly, but my eyes said what I was thinking.

_Hello, Grant._

My earlier happiness from Zach being here quickly moved past the stage of delight to the stage of _think, Cammie, think. _This was my third semester watching over Dayna, knowing that lack of activity from my other hidden colleagues was a _good _thing. It meant everything was running as smoothly as ever; a reassurance I'd given myself when there had been no notice on the CIA database I'd checked. The fact that security had beefed up, and they were willing to give me partners I'd worked with in the past meant only one thing.

I remembered the movie spam I'd received that morning; of how Bex was at Blackthorne right this minute. The school which had handed Grant his diploma, and the school which had trained Zach till he'd fled and joined mine.

It meant something had gone wrong. Very, very wrong.


	2. two

**Hey guys, I am so grateful for your response! Here's chapter two. It's a bit longer than chapter one, ha, but it's got everything I planned for it to have. I hope you like it and please, leave me a review so I know how I'm doing! - Brooke xx**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Ally Carter. I don't own copyright to canon Gallagher Girls series material and only own creative and intellectual property.**

**Also, there is a dance club at the end of the chapter which I based off an actual club in D.C, but it shall remain nameless and its details improvised, due to mentions of underage drinking. If you recognize this club, do know I've never been there nor do I know what their age limit rules are. **

**Chapter Rating: T/Mild M (implied sexual content)**

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**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Two**

Things Not To Do When Your Boyfriend And His Best Friend Show Up In The Middle Of Your Assignment And Become Your Partners Without Any Notice Whatsoever

( A List By Cameron Morgan, Alias, Lauren Daniels).

_1. Grab them by the collar and demand to know what happened._

_2. Drag them to a remote location and demand to know what happened._

_3. Inject them with truth serum while in the cafeteria. To find out what happened._

_4. Attempt to blackmail Liz into sending her blueprints of the mind reading technology she's coming up with, so you can dig for need-to-know information in their brains._

_5. Convince yourself that you need to know the stuff that multiple, better trained operatives worldwide think you don't need to know._

_6. Panic._

All in all, I think I did a decent job of doing none of these things. My assignment was simple – I had to keep eyes on Dayna and ensure that nothing happened to her. While I _knew _I was in no way the only CIA agent undercover in that university or city, the _not knowing_ had been the comfort that I felt; like I was operating solo. I had the right backup, but since I didn't know who was who, I'd never get cocky.

All that flew out the window by the time Craig walked the three of us back to Henle Hall. Of course, _Ivan _and _Hugh _already knew what it looked like before they saw it. They'd done their homework. That, and the fact that I'd happily told this information to Zach on the multiple occasions we found time for each other. But they still pretended they were new to the place and test driving it. What I wanted to know was why they were here. Why was Bex at Blackthorne? Were the two more interlinked than they should be?

Craig must've been on my side that day – or he was just hoping to catch Dayna – because instead of stopping at their apartment, they kept walking with me to mine.

"And this is the dwelling of the ever _so _lovely, Lauren Daniels," he announced as I unlocked the door and stepped in. The three boys followed, taking in the surroundings. I pretended to go drop my bag as they made themselves at home. But the moment I turned the hall, it took all my strength to not run to my room. The door swung open silently as I checked the corners, before seeing Dayna on the bed. She was lying still, her eyes closed and I dropped my bag before going to her. I had to be careful – she didn't _know _me.

She didn't know me.

I checked her breathing, and her body, without so much as stirring her awake before sitting down on my bed. I pulled my laptop out again and rechecked the CIA database once the drive was inserted. Nothing. No information whatsoever. No new emails on Lauren's ID either. Snapping it shut, I paced around the room silently. I felt like Liz as I brought my fingers to my lips. But instead of talking to myself, I wondered.

Dayna was safe, right now, but something had happened between the hours of Zach dropping me home and Ivan and Hugh coming into my college life. An anonymous tip? A threat? A red flag? A walk-in? Had any of the agents on (or off) campus been compromised? Replaced? If so, then why with people I knew?People I knew enough that this went beyond need to know.

Something had to have happened but the wait of finding out was killing me. I heard the front door burst open and slam shut, and I stood up, automatically placing myself between the room door and Dayna. Every cell in my body ached to run out and protect Zach but my assignment was Dayna. I had to protect _her. _ I was a Gallagher Girl and I didn't abandon my sisters – and my assignments were as good as my sisters.

But no disruption sounded outside. Was it a false alarm? Were my nerves getting the better of me? I hadn't felt so on edge in months – not since coming back from Austria, with my memory as riddled with gaps as a slice of cheese. I suppose that panic tendency at the smallest of threats would never leave me – it would be my biggest advantage, and my downfall, at the same time.

But then Carrie's voice wafted through the walls and I allowed myself to breathe. When I was no longer freaking out (two minutes, fourteen seconds later) I walked out, looking as casual as possible.

Carrie was already sitting in the middle of the couch, wedged between Craig and Grant. I almost wanted to laugh at the fact that he'd been given the name Hugh. Was this the doing of a movie buff? It's not like either of them wasn't handsome. Zach stood leaning against the kitchen counter, looking every bit an international student as he could.

"So, then, I walk up to her and – oh, hey, Lauren. Where's Daynee?" she asked, turning her attention to me. Gone was the hungover college junior who had greeted me that morning. Her short bob was back to its shining glory, her bright grey eyes sparkling at the sudden influx of the Y chromosome in the room. She managed to look both casual and interested at the same time – like Macey. She reminded me of Macey McHenry.

"Um, sleeping," I responded, moving around Zach to go to the kitchen. I could almost feel the heat, as if it was a palpable line connecting us. Sometimes, it simmered and lay like a dormant volcano, letting us do our own work and living our own lives. Sometimes, it sparked and crackled beautifully, mesmerizing us and bathing us in its glow. Then there were times like this, when it spat and hissed and blazed, threatening to take us down to our very foundations. Right now, was one of those times and I felt like Gillian Gallagher's mansion, burning against the dark sky.

Carrie was no longer listening, moving back to conversing with Grant and Craig who were paying their full attention to her. I moved around the kitchen, pulling out two cans of pop.

"Would you like some soda, Ivan?" I asked, playing along. He turned around, placing his palms on the counter and smiled back, nodding.

I pushed the can of Coke towards him and opened my can of Sprite. Taking a sip of the cold and refreshing liquid, I stared at him and found him staring back at me. His lips moved, asking the kind of questions you'd ask the host of a house you'd never been to. Mine moved as they responded with the perfect answers. To everyone in the room, we were strangers (well, except Grant). But we knew that this was the best we could do for now. It would take being far out of the boundaries of prying eyes for us to be able to talk again.

The door opened as Alex walked in, surprised to see the newcomers. Her gaze shifted to Grant and then to Zach as he turned to see the interruption. Her eyes lingered on him, longer than I thought was required, before she turned to Craig and Carrie.

As usual, she held the uninterested tone that suggested that we were all idiots she put up with. But I knew better. It was an act, because she still hung out with us (then again, Craig was her best friend, so that was no surprise.) I also noticed that she held most of her contempt towards me, especially now, as her eyes took in Zach once more. If he noticed her blatantly checking him out, he didn't react.

"Are you Ivan and Hugh?" she asked, looking between the two other spies in the room. They both nodded and Grant stood up.

"You're supposed to go collect some left over orientation packets from the Office," she said and then turned her steely gaze to her best friend. "Next time, answer your own phone so I'm not the messenger. They're _your _roommates."

"Chill out," Craig said, and lay back on the couch before realizing that Zach and Grant were still standing. "Oh wait, you don't know where the Office is. I'll – "

"I'll show them."

Craig sat back again, throwing me a wink that I construed as a thank you. Alex rolled her eyes and proceeded to her room, slamming the door shut. Carrie simply waved me goodbye.

Grabbing my keys and jacket, I walked down the hall, aware of the Blackthorne Boys following me.

"So, you're a sophomore, Lauren?" asked Grant, a strong but fake Texas accent on his tongue. I nodded, turning to him.

"Yup. Psych major. The Office isn't that far; they must've taken time to get your packets to you because we rarely have transfers so late. Are you a sophomore too?"

"Yeah, I was supposed to move out this semester, but my Dad wanted me to stay on campus. But I preferred Henle Hall so I decided to request a shift. It seems much better."

"It is."

Zach didn't say a word as he followed us. I led them in the complete opposite direction of the Office, which they were well aware of. The path turned darker, the early setting sun bathing us in dark blue light. When we reached the hidden doorway under the bridge, each of us went through the biometrics. I took the liberty of walking down the stairs, aware that they were following me. When we reached the middle of the small room, where I'd been briefed and debriefed over the past year, I turned on them, crossing my arms.

"So? Care to explain, _Ivan_?"

Grant chuckled before walking forward and patting me on the shoulder. I think it was supposed to be a greeting before he left me alone with Zach and moved to the next room.

I turned to my now black haired boyfriend, who walked forward and put his arms around my waist. I wasn't complaining but I had a gut feeling this was a distraction attempt. He knew it wouldn't work, but he wasn't complaining either.

"What's going on is something I can't tell you, Gallagher Girl. You know better than to ask me."

Of course, I knew better. The first multiple times I'd met him, our conversations mostly consisted of me asking questions in vain. But at some point, since I came back from being on the run, till this morning, Zach had done a much better job of telling me things and keeping me in the loop. Maybe it was because he was scared that I'd run off again to get answers on my own. Maybe because we were almost always paired up, so any information he knew, I could know too. I liked to think it was because he knew me much better now and was willing to trust me with things even I couldn't know.

But I knew that the reason he wasn't worried now was because we were both on a mission – a mission that, I felt, was not quite the same. He had the confidence of knowing that I'd never run from Georgetown until I was relieved of my duties. He knew I'd never risk it because I was no longer a scared school girl who had the world looking for her, her mother as her Headmistress and detention as her worst punishment. No. Running from here would mean becoming a fugitive and going rogue. And going rogue would mean that something really bad was going to happen.

I'd been a fugitive for a very short amount of time once, only to later find out that the person who was after me was actually a part of the Circle. Being a _real _fugitive would be a very different ballgame that I didn't want to learn the rules of. My life, my parents' lives and the lives of every person that mattered to me – all of them were dedicated to protecting people. I refused to run from that.

I was a spy. I wasn't a fugitive and Zach knew that, no matter how much he withheld from me, I'd never choose to be one.

"I think I hate you a little," I grumbled, irritated. "But you have Craig as your roommate, so I'm not even worried about getting even."

"You _love _me," he reminded me, kissing the top of my head. I let it rest on his chest for a few seconds before looking up at him. Unfamiliar eyes stared at me through contacts and I had to fight to see the expression behind them; to know that I knew the man who had his arms around me.

We made it back twenty minutes later, by which time Craig was preparing to leave my suite.

"Daniels," he grinned as he saw us, nodding at my cheeks that were flushed from the cold air outside. "Looking good. That's twice today."

"It's _cold, _Sommers," I responded, using his surname with a harsher snap than necessary. Maybe it was my nerves, or the cold that no longer felt welcoming; or maybe it was the fact that Craig's harmless flirting didn't feel as harmless anymore with my boyfriend standing a foot behind me.

Craig didn't notice.

"I liked the bra better."

I rarely believe in a higher power, but in that moment, I swear to God, I wanted to knock him out in ways that would leave the writers of the Geneva Convention gasping. Before I could do this though, he signaled Zach and Grant to follow him to their room as if he was their ringleader. I was pretty sure the boys behind him could knock him flat to the ground before he even blinked. I watched them walk away. Zach turned and threw me a look that said I had some explaining to do before he killed Craig in his sleep. I waved goodbye at them, and called out, "See you guys, _later._"

The moment I was inside my apartment, I went back to my room. Dayna wasn't sleeping there anymore but I knew she was probably in Carrie's room since I could hear familiar giggles and loud music through the door. I shut my own, pulling out my laptop and logging into my email. I quickly typed back an encoded message to Liz, asking her for a favor – asking her to find out why Zach and Grant were assigned here.

It suddenly felt like we were back at Gallagher, me asking questions and Liz hacking systems to get sensitive information. Either she was online, or she'd implanted her own brain in her laptop (knowing Liz, I wouldn't be surprised if she was working on making that happen), but the reply I got back was immediate and short. No clearance. I had no clearance. I sat back, staring, stunned at the "automated" mail that stated that the address I was attempting to access was invalid.

And then suddenly I wasn't at Gallagher anymore.

We were no longer students. We were agents.

And the databases Liz protected had rules to follow. Clearance levels existed for a reason.

Like any good agent, she enforced them. Like any good agent, I shouldn't have asked.

I ran a hand through my hair, before standing up and pacing the room again. What were the legitimate possibilities?

Agents could be traded and replaced all the time – whether for holidays and breaks, or for other assignments. There was no way that any of their covers had been compromised. Dayna would've already been escorted to a remote location. That would've happened even if there were any anonymous tips, so that was ruled out. Any red flags would've been notified to all of us undercover security details, so that hadn't happened either.

If Zach had been assigned simply because he wanted to be near me, I wouldn't be as rattled. After all, we worked together often. But Grant was here too. And Zach _had _admitted something was happening.

_You know better than to ask me. _

But…what else was there? What could have happened?

I needed a glass of water, I decided as I went out to the kitchen and poured myself some. As I leaned against the very counter Zach had leaned against an hour back, I felt someone come up behind me. I easily dodged the round object flying my way, turning around. Alex raised an eyebrow at me, snorting.

"Relax, Karate Kid. It's just paper," she scoffed, sitting on the barstool and drumming her fingers on the counter. I watched her with narrowed eyes, wondering why she was approaching me. Alex and I had a complicated relationship, one that had started out more pleasantly. She used to treat me just as she treated the others – cool indifference but also with a sense of familiarity and camaraderie. It was _her _way of showing affection. But that had long disappeared into just indifference. I suspected she had more than friendly feelings for Craig, so her irritation was obvious with how much he hung around us without her around. Especially with Dayna. But I didn't see why that made _me _a target of her irritation. Maybe she just thought I could handle it; maybe I was her version of Bex – the girl who you could snap at and know she'd forgive you.

This was another reminder that while I was trained to watch and understand the moves of every single type of person on the planet, I could never quite understand _who_ they were. Joe Soloman – my old CoveOps teacher, Zach's mentor and my step father – had once taught us that motivation is the only reason anyone did anything. It took a year of college for me to know that while I could pinpoint motivation; I was really crappy at understanding it.

"Do you think that Ivan guy is a hottie?" Alex suddenly asked, putting her chin on her hands. It was a true testament to my years of training that I didn't choke on my water. Her blonde hair hung around her face in a messy manner; her hazel eyes trained on me. Her face was small, drowned out by the large-on-purpose frames (Craig called them hipster glasses but I had no idea what that meant). I was suddenly aware of how Zach would've seen her and noticed she looked like me. Well, not dark fringes, blue eyes me… but _me _me.

I could lie and say no. I didn't think he was hot. But I paused. If I truly wanted to pretend we were civilian strangers, then Lauren Daniels had no reason to run from Ivan, or maintain distance. Lauren Daniels was a normal girl who would find Ivan hot. Cammie Morgan _definitely _found Zach hot; but I couldn't let Cammie Morgan out right now. She might do something stupid and irrational, like throw a percussion grenade in Alex's room.

"Yeah, he's cute," I smiled. Alex's face tightened and my insides did too. I thought I didn't understand motivation or emotion – which I _didn't _– but that didn't mean I didn't _feel _it. And oh I felt it…jealousy raging through me. And then I remembered Zach's face when Craig had flirted with me – when _he'd _been jealous of something that meant nothing.

This was a cover. A story. We all had our parts to play, whether we liked them or not.

Still, I think my voice was icier than necessary when I replied.

"Why, do you think he's hot?"

"What I think doesn't matter. What is wrong with _you_?"

Okay, honestly, I'm sure even _Macey _would be confused right now.

"Am I missing something?"

Alex gave me a look which would translate into : _you're missing a lot more than something. _She shook her head and stood up, so, I reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Let me go," she hissed, struggling. I knew better than to use my training on a civilian but I couldn't help myself.

"No, tell me. What am I missing? What is supposedly so wrong with me finding him good looking?"

"Because you're missing out on someone who likes you a lot more than Vladimir there ever will!" she responded, yanking back her hand.

Somehow, I seriously doubted anyone (any boy, anyway) would care for me more than _Vladimir _ever would . It wasn't just the fact that I'd known Zach for almost four years, or the fact that we'd been _involved _for almost majority of that period. It wasn't even how he'd run away from Blackthorne because he was worried about me, or blew up a cave to protect me (with him _in _it), or ran away from a safe house _twice _to try and follow me to the ends of the earth (although that _was _pretty darn amazing). Maybe it was how I'd never once seen him have any intention of _hurting _me, or lying to me for anything other than protecting me. Maybe it was the way he looked at me without looking at me; the way he held my hand when I needed it, and let it go when I didn't. Or perhaps it was the way he protected Bex, and let her protect him, when I was away; or how he looked out for Liz (_after _calling his own best friends for backup) when we went to Alaska, or surrendered himself over just to help us get Preston out, for Macey. All because they were _my _best friends. He wasn't just _Blackthorne Boy_ who tailed girls at the Smithsonian and had a knack for smirking and comebacks. He was also Gallagher Guy – one of us. Mine.

So, yeah, I doubted _Vladimir _could be defeated by anyone else's affection.

"Stop beating around the bush, Alex – "

"Craig!" she blurted out, before yanking her hand free. "Craig likes you _so, so _much Lauren. All you do is lead him on more than half the time. And Ivan comes along and you're flirting with him and – " she sighed, shaking her head and looking at me like I was the world's worst person. "What is wrong with you?"

I know fourteen languages – both official and colloquial, along with training in regional accents – and the only thing I could really say was: "Huh?"

I cleared my throat. No, it couldn't be true. Me? Craig? No way. Not in a million years.

"Craig likes _Dayna,_" I said as if I was talking to a toddler. Alex looked like she was questioning the possibility of me having a concussion.

"No. Craig likes _you. _He's _friends _with Dayna."

"No, it's the other way around."

"Lauren!" she snapped, as if I was rambling, which I wasn't. I was mostly staring in shock, replaying memories in my head over and over. I'd met Craig when I'd moved in with Alex and Dayna – he'd known Carrie from the year before because they were both a year ahead of us. He'd been friendly with me – well, Lauren – for as long as I could remember. He'd shown interest in Dayna for as long as I could remember, as well. Alex had liked Craig since the beginning of that time too. I was beginning to have a headache, now.

I remembered Craig helping us with our boxes. Craig taking us out to the diners and pubs he'd come to know in his one year. Craig laughing with me, teasing me, flirting with me. Dayna being irritated with him when he came over this morning but…cheery at the idea of me saying no to him. Dayna and Carrie repeatedly bailing on us when we went out.

I'd been set up by my teachers for CoveOps my whole life. I'd been set up by my parents, as a kid, to test myself. I'd been set up by classmates for pranks (though ours involved Molotov cocktails and not water balloons). I'd even been set up by the Circle of Cavan to get information.

I'd never been set up by roommates trying to fix me up with a guy.

And it completely sucked.

I gestured for Alex to sit again, and this time I didn't use force. I simply sat down on the barstool next to the one she'd been sitting on. My face must've been pretty priceless since she did take the seat.

"Explain," I mumbled.

She looked like she didn't want to, but then she mumbled _what the hell, _and started talking.

"Craig's had a crush on you for months – no, that's not it. He's _liked _you for months. Serious like. The kind of like where he doesn't ask you out because he'd rather just watch you be happy. Do you know how many times he's told me he could see you smiling for days?"

I shook my head.

"He's head over heels. And Dayna and Carrie know this. Why do you think he flirts with you and enjoys it? Because you think it's harmless and he wants to keep it that way. He wants you to come to him."

"Alex…" I said. "That's not going to happen. He needs to move on. Craig is my friend. And I thought he liked Dayna, otherwise I never would've – "

"Never would've _what_? Talked to him? Befriended him?" Her voice was cutting.

"Led him on," I stressed. "I would've given him his distance. I thought it was alright to get close to him because he liked Dayna."

"Where did you even get that idea, anyway?"

"He talks to her, hangs out with her. In fact, he spends so much time around her – "

"Because she's _your _roommate. Who else knows you better than her?"

Certainly _not _Dayna. But I didn't point this out. Craig had done some good surveillance, using Dayna as an asset. I hadn't seen it coming for sure. I suppose I should've been glad that he wasn't a threat or I'd have ruined the entire mission. It reminded me eerily of the time when Zach had tailed me at the museum and used me to tell him exactly where I was going. It was a glaring reminder that sixteen years old or nineteen years old – my biggest weakness was the trust I placed on people. The trust they used against me, time and again.

For a brief moment, I felt a chill around me, as if I was once more on that roof, ready to jump, ready to die and take all my precious secrets to the grave just because someone I trusted had brainwashed me to. But then I blinked and realized I was still in my apartment and Alex was glaring at me as she always did. And then it clicked. It made sense. _That's _why Alex hated me so much.

The boy she loved was head over heels for me – and now I was blowing him off to pay attention to my own boyfriend. I wondered what Craig would think if he performed surveillance on his own roommates and found out that _they _knew me best. But no…they didn't. They knew Cammie. They didn't know Lauren at all.

"I didn't lead him on," I finally said, in a voice so low that only a spy would've heard me.

"What's that?" asked Alex.

"I didn't lead him on. I was his friend and I acted like nothing more. You don't get to tell me something is wrong with me because someone else wants something from me which I can't give them." I hadn't even realized my voice was shaking. Hadn't that been my entire life? People wanting things from me without asking for them.

"Lauren –"

"No!" I said, standing up. "I won't let you blame _me _for your broken heart. This is on you and this is on Craig. You are responsible for your feelings. I am responsible for mine and I won't apologize for not having any."

She must've been pretty thrown off by my knowledge of her feelings because she didn't stop me as I left the room. My sleep was fitful despite being dreamless – a fact I knew for sure, because when I woke up my entire body was aching and I was not rested at all. Bruises always hurt worse the next day and I was glad that everyone was still asleep when I went to the girls' bathrooms for a hot shower. The water loosened my tense muscles, stinging over my open wounds. I could hear footsteps outside my shower curtains but I knew I had nothing to fear. The arms which went around me were familiar ones and I leaned back happily, glad that we were both up before sunrise and already doing spy worthy sneaking.

"_Dobroye utro_, Ivan," I mumbled in Russian, greeting him. Zach pressed a kiss to my sore shoulder, arms tightening around me. We stood in silence for a long time, just letting the water rain down on us, until he reached for the bar of soap. It was mine but somehow when he used it, it smelled better (and here I was, _so sure _that Blackthorne had its own brand of sexy smelling soaps). I turned around, silently helping him, something that he didn't complain about. Sometimes, even us self-sufficient spies enjoyed help. His torso had taken a nastier hit than mine, a wound right over his ribs. It wasn't deep enough to require stitches but I could tell it still stung when I ran my soapy hands over it.

I drowned out his wince with a kiss, which he readily responded to, pulling me close. Our bodies held next to no friction despite being pressed to each other's, the water and soap making it impossible. But we were used to slippery grounds as he pressed me against the tiled wall. I didn't even hesitate as his hands went down to my waist, lifting me up with ease, egging me to wrap my legs around his torso. There had been a time when there was barely any height difference between us – not more than a few inches. But over the summer I'd vanished, he'd grown and I loved it. His kisses grew hungrier and our movements grew sloppier. His lips moved to my neck and his hands roamed lower and I let myself forget everything I wanted to and lost myself in him. He had always been good at helping me lose myself - at being the chameleon.

Maybe it was days later – well, it felt like days later – when the water ran cooler. I moved my hand to the tap behind him, turning it off. Both of us were still locked in an embrace, shivering in the mixture of steam and early winter air. Droplets of water hung from our dark hair as he buried his face in my neck. Our chests rose and dropped rapidly before he finally let me down to my feet. He reached for my towel, wrapping it around me and then planting a kiss on my forehead. In turn, I took his towel and wrapped it around his waist, letting my head rest on his shoulder.

"What's in that head of yours that required _that _to get out?" he mumbled softly in my ear. His voice was so low it could've been mistaken for the sound of wind twisting around the curtain rings.

"A lot."

"Like what? Name one thing – one thing I can actually answer," he amended, knowing I'd ask the same fruitless questions.

"Craig," I admitted. He tensed in a way different than the times when Josh's name used to come up. Those were the insecurities of a teenage boy jealous over his girlfriend's first love. This? These were the doubts of a young man who not only had to watch some other guy hit on his girlfriend, but also a guy who could very well get in the way of a dangerous mission which would risk many, many lives. This wasn't a CoveOps exam anymore. Also I'm pretty sure he'd turned over the bra comment in his head all night.

I pulled back and kissed his chin, sighing.

"He likes me. He likes me more than he should and the sad thing is, he doesn't even like _me. _He likes Lauren."

"I know. I could tell."

Of course, he could tell. How is it that a _boys' _school, which had night drills, yellow jumpsuits and military grade training, had brought up this insightful, caring boy (did I mention his _mother _was a terrorist who attempted to kill both of us?) but a girls' school, which had Madame Dabney and a cover story of a finishing school, did not teach us this? I rubbed my eyelid and he pulled my hand away.

"I have to tell him to back off."

"Yes, you do."

"And he has to understand we can only be friends."

"Yes, he does."

"I told Alex I think Ivan is hot."

"You did."

"Will you say something more helpful?" I asked, looking up at him. He was trying to hide a smirk as he whispered.

"So, tell me about this bra incident."

* * *

And so it went on.

I never got around to telling Craig to back off, because when I returned to my apartment the other day, Alex made me promise I wouldn't say anything to him. After all the bitter emotions I'd put her through, I found myself giving her that favor, all the while wondering if shower sex always made people that lightheaded and wobbly in the knees.

With Zach and Grant keeping their secrets to themselves, and no clearance from higher levels, I was a sitting duck. It was no different from the past two semesters when I'd lived as a college student. But this time I knew it was because I had no other choice. This wasn't a matter of boredom. This was a matter of waiting. Waiting for something to happen – whether good or bad. I attended my classes. I laughed when I had to. I smiled when I had to. I acted like a dramatic girl when I had to. I kept my cover going because that was my job and I'd learned a long time ago that this time, I wasn't just betraying myself if I let myself slide. I had to play my part as a cog in the machine.

For Dayna.

For Zach.

For Grant.

For all the other unknown agents out there.

Winter break loomed over us like a threat and I felt nervous with the idea of going to my friends and family. It wasn't just the knowledge of parting with Dayna (though I knew she'd have top notch security). It was the fact that I'd have to stand in a room full of people I loved, for weeks, and know that they were all keeping something or the other from me. They used to call me The Chameleon – the rising star of Gallagher Academy. Now I was the one who seemed to be given no clearance or trust. It was going to be a long, long winter.

But not before Craig and Carrie threw one of their end of semester parties at one of the most talked about clubs in town. The building had four floors of various themed dance clubs and, as always, they'd booked the rooftop. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little excited. It had been two weeks of walking on eggshells around both Alex and Craig, not to mention, I had to "get to know" Ivan and Hugh without making it awkward for Craig. It was, well, a real mess. This was the _only _reason I looked forward to London.

My roommates had long since given up on trying to get me to dress up for such events. One of the reasons for this was that Macey McHenry had taught me well. Secondly, the idea of playing dress up with them honestly scared me into believing that they were going to blot out the memories I had with my Gallagher roommates. Thirdly, _Lauren Daniels _was a rich girl and she _knew _how to dress up. So, nobody was very surprised when I walked out of my room at 7 pm wearing four-inch stilettos coupled with a black and gold lace dress. It was definitely club appropriate, while maintaining an aura of mystery as the lace wrapped around my bodice and arms. The only thing it _didn't _wrap around was my back, which was covered with my now long hair.

I didn't even have to hear him to know Craig said _looking good, Daniels. _It was starting to get boring, and with the knowledge I had, very awkward. I just looped my arm through Dayna's and walked out of the apartment. It wasn't hard to work around the splitting of cab fare since we were all in even numbers (including Zach, Grant and Craig's fourth roommate). Plus there were many, many other college students who would be there with their own transport planned out. The parties on various floors were well underway and while the weather was freezing, the club had done a good job of making the terrace hospitable for a winter party. It looked like a princess green house, all snow and sparkles and strobe lights.

"Guys," Craig shouted over the music. "Go find a place to sit, or something, I'll get the drinks sent over." I gave him a curious look and he pointed in the general direction.

Grabbing Dayna's hand I practically dragged her over to the table. I felt the itch and burn of the Velcro on my thighs, a small dagger strapped to the left one and a gun in a holster on the right one. An invisible comm unit, louder than the blaring music, hummed calmly in my ear. This was the set up with every party Craig had. Unknown voices commanding and reassuring me in my ear as I worked with people in this room I didn't even know I was working with. How many people in the crowd of dancing and raving college kids were trained spies? Was it the peroxide blond guy in the far corner of the room, smoking coolly in a no smoking zone? Was it the girl with dark brown hair who danced with reckless abandon?

There was a hand on my lower back and if I wasn't used to his clumsiness, I'd go into panic mode. But there was nothing flirty about the touch as Craig simply maneuvered Dayna and I to the side and made way for the waiter to place the drinks on the table. I guess having so many rich kids here (with a plethora of age groups) meant that they didn't really check every person for an ID. Even if they did, I wasn't legal and I wasn't planning on drinking.

Grant slid into the booth after Dayna, and though he was subtle, it was obvious he was flanking her side. I knew to look for it, so I could see the barely there hint of black that showed a comm unit in his ear too. I was about to take her other side but Alex had already slid in. I had to settle for sitting next to Grant, with Craig on my other side. He picked up a chilled bottle of beer with a label I'd never seen before in my life. It was a kind habit of his to always buy me a new beer (more often than not, I forgot that part of my cover was collecting their labels). It was a quirky lie, I could say that much. I smiled gratefully, watching the condensation droplets smooth out the glue under it before I neatly peeled it off. Folding it, I slid it into my wallet. I didn't take a sip though. Not tonight - not at a gathering this large.

Instead, I was offered a hand as Zach asked me to dance. I think nobody was really surprised because we'd been playing our covers as if we were two fast friends who were starting to like each other – either it was the fact that I hated Alex for looking at him like the way she did, or he was trying to be subtly territorial in front of Craig. I'm sure we could've pulled off hate and cool indifference equally well (which we'd had to for past missions) but this was easier. Nicer. It felt surreal to just be Lauren and Ivan who were normal, college kids. However, I didn't miss the way Alex's face scrunched up and the way she eyed Craig who looked like he was choking on a lime.

I moved out of the booth with little struggle, letting Zach pull me into the middle of the dance floor. His arms were resting loosely on my lower back, head tilted low as if he was kissing my neck. My arms were around his neck, pulling myself close, both of us swaying to the bass. I'm sure Madame Dabney did not expect us to dance this way but somehow we'd come a full circle – one dance to another dance.

"Talk to me," he whispered in the ear without the earpiece and I knew this wasn't meant to be small talk as we basically grinded (yes, actual _grindage_) against one another. I concentrated on our surroundings and not the roaming hands as I scoped the crowd. _See everything. _But nothing looked out of place.

"I see…nothing." It sounded like a question, although I knew that nothing out of place meant _nothing was out of place_. But what if I'd overlooked something?

Zach pulled back, smirking at me, and then nodded to something in the distance, before spinning me around. I felt his chest press against my back, fingers teasing my sides, as I was aware of our friends in the distance. Craig was trying not so subtly to look at me as he pretended to laugh and take a sip of his drink. Alex had no such qualms as she glared at me, ignoring the chatter of the boy she loved and his other roommate, Aaryan. Carrie was just grinning and throwing a wink at me – I felt safe with that expression, knowing that she knew what it was like to have sweet but unwelcome attention. Dayna just looked like she wasn't sure if she should comfort Craig or be happy for me. She settled for a smile that made it look like she had an upset stomach.

But my eyes were on Grant, who was looking like a _Blackthorne Boy, _a smile on his face that said he knew something I didn't. Honestly, what did they teach these boys?

He nodded to Zach, who immediately vanished behind me. Before I could turn, another set of hands was resting on my waist – smaller, familiar hands that I had missed very much. The body behind me continued swaying to the beat, keeping the rhythm from breaking and I grinned, turning around and pulling my new dance partner close.

"Hey, Chameleon," she whispered in my ear and my laughter was the closest thing to pure, unadulterated happiness I felt in the past two weeks.

"Hey, Duchess ."


	3. three

**Hey guys, I am honestly so happy to see people's response to this! It is very humbling and I am very thankful. Here's chapter three. **

**It was meant to be longer but I decided to leave it with this ending and continue the rest of it with chapter four. I hope you guys like it and do leave a review! - Brooke xx**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Ally Carter. I don't own copyright to canon Gallagher Girls series material and only own creative and intellectual property.**

**Chapter Rating: T**

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Three**

Number of hours it takes to fly from D.C to London: 14

Number of hours it takes to drive from D.C to Richmond, VA: 2 (and 26 minutes, and only if you take the longest route)

Number of hours it takes to fly from Richmond, VA to Atlanta, Georgia: 1 (and 35 minutes)

Number of hours it takes to fly from Atlanta, Georgia to London (Heathrow): 12 (and 35 minutes)

Number of stops we made: 3 (not counting bathroom breaks and IHOP)

Number of flights we took: 3

Number of peanut M&M packets I finished (so far): 11

Number of hours we've actually been travelling: 15

Number of times I've asked myself why we're going through such extensive counter surveillance when all of us are safe and on holiday: 781

Sleeping during flights seemed to be a fantastic hobby I had, I realized, as I blinked hard against the heaviness in my eyelids. I knew the time. We still had an hour and a half to go (if rounded off), and my patience was wearing thin with every passing mile. My mouth felt like sandpaper, my ears still hurt from the previous night's party music and I could feel the knot of hair, curling at the back of my head from sleeping awkwardly. I sat up, stretching, moaning in relief as my muscles and joints popped. The entire plane was quiet, the engines being the loudest thing to hear. Beside me, Bex was snoring away to glory.

I could feel my ears popping and I swiped a candy from the seat pouch in front of me before I stood up and walked down the aisle to the back of the plane. Since we were flying as civilians, it was a longer walk. The flight attendants happily smiled at me as I waited for the bathroom sign to turn 'VACANT' and I gave them a sleepy smile in return.

It was a smile that vanished the moment I stepped into the tiny space and latched the door behind me. I wanted to kill somebody. As soon as I thought this, I immediately backtracked. No. No, there _was _blood on my hands. Unintentional blood, but blood nonetheless. Somewhere along the way I'd become a killer, and even allowing myself to think it was a bad thing.

But that didn't mean I didn't want to shake at least three of my fellow passengers into giving me some answers. I stared at my reflection, frustrated. My eyes were back to their normal hazel, and the dark brown hair was starting to show dirty blonde roots. I felt like Lauren Daniels was slowly molting off of me and leaving plain, furious and irritated Cammie underneath. This was _beyond _ridiculous. I understood safety precautions but if I could spend an entire year and a half using normal public transport as a civilian then how hard was it, really, to take a flight straight from D.C to London? And since _when _was Grant on the guest list? Did Mr. and Mrs. Baxter even have space for four girls, let alone the entire Scooby Doo gang? I wanted to smash the mirror in front of me but I knew this wasn't like the movies. Instead of receiving dramatic effect, I'd probably actually break it and there would be a lot of explanations following that.

"My friend's in there and she completely forgot to take her lens case –" came the British accent of Bex from outside. Just your average Jane Bond who could probably have found a way to get to me from within the plane's inner machinery – I guess I was glad she was using the front door.

"Riley?" came the sharp knock on the door. "It's Meg. You in there?"

A stubborn, childish part of me longed to say no but then my friends would probably bring the plane down so I chimed back.

"Yeah, give me a second, I'll be back. I don't need the contacts."

"Okay."

I made it back to our seat, and it was either Bex's ability to read my mind, or my face probably said _I am so done, _because she let me take the window seat this time. I was quick to lace my arm with hers and suddenly it didn't matter how many times I'd done this with Dayna or Carrie. _Bex _was my best friend and I finally felt like I was close to home – even if I was somewhere over the Atlantic. I tilted my head to let it rest on her shoulder and was equally happy and surprised when she pressed a light kiss to the crown of my head before leaning her head over mine.

"I missed you," I whispered.

"I missed you more," she was quick to reply. "Where are our fellow travel mates?" Her voice was a whisper and though I knew she knew exactly where they were, she was either testing me or we were trying to feel like two sixteen year olds again. I didn't even have to look around to give her the answer.

"Z appears to be chatting up his fellow flight attendants up front," I chuckled, trying not to think about just how dapper he looked in the suit (although he was probably tired of running errands for all the passengers). "And G seems to be fast asleep, four rows down."

Bex made a sound like 'hmph', which I didn't really understand. My boyfriend was the one who was flirting with the ladies. I almost laughed at myself, remembering a time when I'd thought he was her boyfriend.

"Do you think he knows how to fly the plane?" I chuckled low.

"Z? I don't know…small planes to run away in? Probably," she laughed, remembering the time she'd co-piloted with him. "Commercial jets? Doubt he has that training."

"They mostly run on auto pilot anyway."

_As do most assassins, _a very nasty voice at the back of my head said, which I almost immediately stomped out.

"Well, at least he has flight attendant training pat down," she said. We both laughed under our breaths, catching Zach's eye as he served juice to someone a few rows down. He rolled his eyes a little, but still sent us his best '_anything to make your journey comfortable' _smile which he was using on everyone. I snuggled closer to Bex, watching him serve juice and water and thinking to myself that perhaps this was better than being Lauren. Sure, I couldn't laugh with him in my apartment at Henle Hall or sneak hand holding in the Quadrangle while Carrie teased us. But this was closer to who we really were than two students in Georgetown ever could be.

"How's school?" Bex asked and I shrugged, looking away from Zach, who was pressed against the seats as another passenger squeezed past him to go to the bathroom.

"Like school. Boring classes, not so boring friends. It's slow but in a nice way."

"And your friends?"

"They love Lauren," I stressed and she gave me a sympathetic glance. "But it's kind of nice. To not be…a chameleon."

"Living up the civilian life, eh? Been part of any keggers lately?"

"You wish," I said, swatting her arm and looking up at her shining eyes. She winked at me, before her expression morphed into panic. I sat up quickly, but even I couldn't avoid the splash of water that suddenly doused both of us. We both stood up in a frenzy, Bex cursing and my head smacking the underside of the overhead luggage bins.

"Ow," I mumbled, rubbing the back of my head. The passenger who'd been making his way to the bathroom lay sprawled on the floor, his open bottle of water lying at my feet. Bex and I stood there, drenched.

"Shit, sorry," the guy mumbled, detangling his legs from whatever he'd tripped on. "I'm sorry, man," he groaned as he looked behind him.

Zach had walked up, eyeing the commotion and bent down to help him up.

"It's not a problem, sir," he said, kindly. Yeah, tell that to your girls who are soaked and sitting under air conditioning.

Passengers turned to look at the drama, and I could see Grant's careful eyes narrowed down on us. His expression was alert – as if he'd never been asleep at all.

"I'll help you," the guy said, standing up and shaking out the water from his hands. "Clean it up, I mean. I'm so sorry, ladies," he added, turning to the both of us before he stopped midsentence. "Cammie?"

Zach, Bex and I froze, and I was pretty sure it took all of Grant's strength to not stand up and knock this guy out. Aside from the fact that I was his best friend's girlfriend (don't even get me started on how many times he's teased me as his "sister-in-law") or his "roommate's crush", we'd grown closer since he'd transferred to Georgetown. I trusted him.

"Huh?" I asked, remembering that the name stamped on my boarding pass and passport was Riley Descartes. As far as everyone in Georgetown was concerned, Lauren Daniels' journey ended at Richmond. So many stories, so many covers, and this one clumsy stranger new my real name?

"Oh sorry, you're not her. I thought you looked like someone I knew," he sadly shook his head, his cheeks flushed from all the attention the other passengers were giving us. I could either brush this off or let him walk away. I could also take him down. So I did the only thing I could do.

A laugh escaped my lips as I slid out of the narrow legroom, pretending to wring my shirt while playfully putting a hand on his bicep. Mentally, I was thanking Carrie and Macey for all the flirting lessons I'd picked up from them. My friends were still frozen, and looking at each other like they knew something I didn't know. Probably the secret they'd been hiding. But I had to admit. Whatever secret they were keeping, this klutz had not been part of it and had left all four of us scrambling for cover.

"I get that a lot. The lookalike thing. Who's your friend?" I chuckled. None of the passengers seemed fazed by the entire incident. Grant blended in with the others eyeing us; Bex looked like any friend who had to watch her travel buddy lay it on thick; Zach looked like a flight attendant who really did not want to clean up the unexpected shenanigans taking place on the aisle.

"Uh," the guy fumbled, blushing harder. "Cammie? We're not…friends, exactly. She's just someone I briefly knew. You look a lot like her. But people look different in artificial lighting," he said, gesturing to the white panels of the cabin. "And the Rome summer."

Rome summer. Summer Me! Summer Me knew this guy! It could be a coincidence. The whole time I'd been on the run (which I didn't remember), I must've run into thousands of people. I mean, there were a bazillion Cammies on the planet, right? But how many of them looked like me? I was nondescript in appearance – dull hair, dull eyes, dull chameleon – but I wasn't _that _nondescript.

"Okay, sir, I could escort you back to your seat now," Zach interjected, gently placing his hand on the guy's shoulder. He looked guilty as he moved aside and I blurted out.

"Friend? Or girlfriend?" I joked, as I moved around. _Please say no. Please let it be someone else. Please. _

The guy laughed. "Just a friend, and barely so. We barely knew each other but now that I think of it, she looked much more different," he called out as Zach escorted him away. "Shorter black hair. Sorry for the water!" he called out before he turned around and continued apologizing to Zach.

Bex and I stared at each other as I sank into my seat, completely forgetting about the water. Unconsciously, my fingers fiddled with my brown hair, remembering the short, choppy haircut and bad dye job I'd done before vanishing from the embassy that summer. Bex pulled down her tray table just as Zach showed up with a towel and napkins, kneeling down to clean up, placing the materials on the open tray. All the passengers went back to minding their own business.

But the silence surrounding us grew thicker with every passing second.

* * *

I wasn't surprised that the London weather wasn't particularly welcoming to us. A light dusting of snow paved the sides of the road but Bex had kindly informed us that it was a few days old and the chances of it snowing again would only be after New Years. No white Christmas for us. But that didn't mean it wasn't freezing cold. Winds howled outside the tinted windows, making loud sounds, as sleet rained down on us. The four of us had been quiet ever since we met up outside the three-mile radius of Heathrow, triple checking for tails. When we were sure we could slip back into our own identities, we'd gotten into the car Bex's parents had rented for us. Despite Bex being a better driver on this side of the Atlantic Ocean, Grant had still taken over the wheel. Zach and I had pretty much agreed and even Bex hadn't argued. We were all too shaken. I could see everyone's discreet glances my way, probably expecting a meltdown.

I had never gotten back the memories that were stolen from me. A part of me had hated it. Not knowing was one of my biggest fears. But when the Circle business had been dealt and done with, I'd let that fear of mine go up in smoke along with Catherine and all the torture she'd inflicted on me. All that had remained were the occasional nightmares and the scars, which I still carried on my arms. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to remember how they'd hurt me; how they'd shown me my father's makeshift grave. I didn't want that to be the last memory of his that I had.

Thinking of him had me curling up a little closer to the window, my breath creating fog on the pane. Without even fully realizing it, I was humming the circus tune under my breath. The very tune I'd hummed for so long that I'd never known hurtful people could use it to dig into my brain and unravel me. The tune I'd hummed for days together after coming back and not known I was doing things while singing it, as I let it hypnotize me.

"Cam," came Bex's panicked voice from the passenger seat and I waved her off.

"I know I'm singing it. I'm fine."

And on some level, I was. Knowledge was everything to me. As long as I knew I was singing it, I was in control of where the crescendo led me.

I closed my eyes, letting myself remember that day of candy and sticky heat as my Dad and I watched the circus show. I'd been having the time of my life but time and again I'd pointed out how many times the clowns were repeating routines – I'd learned at too young an age that keeping count was a habit to build.

"Sometimes repetition can be a good thing, Cammie," my Dad had said.

"Because practice makes perfect?" I'd grumbled, popping a gummy bear in my mouth.

"No. Because when the bad guys repeat stuff, it gives them away. Always remember, baby girl. Once is a stranger. Twice is a coincidence. Three times and you know you've got a tail." That hadn't been the first time I'd been told this. So, when I'd laughed and gone back to watching the clowns, he'd laughed with me too.

The memory of that laughter had me snapping my eyes open and the song stopping mid hum. It hurt too much to have it echo in my ears.

"Where are we going?" I asked, looking around. We were already out of the city and into the suburbs, watching Roseville style houses pass us by.

"My parents' place," Bex replied, turning around to give me a confused look. "You know that."

"Didn't your parents _just _get a penthouse in the _middle_ of the city?"

Bex shrugged as if she'd given up on trying to understand their antics. On any other day, I'd have done the same. Her parents moved often, sometimes even twice a year. That was the price some paranoid spies had to pay to keep their families safe. The last time they'd moved this frequently was when I was under the protection of the MI6.

_Twice is a coincidence, _my dad's voice rang in my ears.

Ten minutes later, Grant pulled up outside a bungalow. The single story house was almost adorable with its patio and beige panels. Greenery wrapped around it, making the low-rise building look like something out of a Good Housekeeping magazine. Mrs. Baxter stood on the porch, holding a tray of scones, looking like Martha Stewart.

Despite my annoyances, I waved at the beautiful woman whom I'd known most of my life. But I couldn't help but stare at the house. As beautiful as it was, it didn't look like it had more than three or four rooms. The whole point of meeting up in the house of people who'd brought up Rebecca Baxter, was knowing that we were safe for a holiday reunion. Their penthouse could've housed all of us with ease, if we roped in a few hotel rooms. But this place?

I should've known that there was more than what met the eye. There always is.

"Cammie!" Grace Baxter's voice came through the wind and sleet and I jogged up to her. I didn't hug her, not wanting to pass on the cold weather but she did pat my cheek in a motherly fashion. "Come on in, you guys must be freezing."

We actually weren't since the car had heating, but none of us pointed this out as we went in. Once our bags were inside, I took off the weatherproof coat, hanging it by the door. After a second thought, I even took of my wet boots. The house was breathtaking. It didn't have the minimal necessities that their other safe houses had and I realized how deep their suburban cover had to be, given the neighbors.

"Come on, I'll show you your rooms," Bex said. I expected her to go up the stairwell in the foyer but instead she led us to the cupboard door under the staircase.

"Um...Bex? I know we're in the UK but isn't the Harry Potter reference a bit much?"

"Shut up," she mumbled, opening the door. It was musty and cobwebbed and I was surprised Bex didn't jump back. She could take down ten muscled men but she couldn't handle tiny creepy crawlies. But she just pulled on the string to turn on the light bulb. Except, no light went on. The back panel slid aside, revealing a scanner similar to the ones we had in school to get to the sublevels. One by one, each of our prints, retinas and bodies were scanned. Once we were all cleared, the bottom panel slid aside, revealing a staircase. Bex led us down the stairs, down a long hallway with mirrors on either side.

At the end of it, we went through two more layers of security before the doors widened.

"Wow," I whispered. I'm pretty sure it was a bunker but it didn't _look _like a bunker. "It looks like – "

"Sublevel three." Zach was the one who finished my sentence. His jaw was tightened as we stared at the walls, which clearly broke off into various doorways and spaces. It was a house underneath a house. And it looked exactly like the floor that had held our senior year CoveOps classes.

It looked like the abandoned tombs where Zach had detonated the bomb. The place I'd almost lost him; lost Joe; lost myself.

"Your room's the closest one to the exit, Cam," Bex said, noticing my expression. She gestured for me to open the door I was standing beside. I turned the knob. The room was made well hospitable. The bed looked comfortable, there was heating, which surprised me. There was lighting, and a closet and mirrors and even a bathroom. But I couldn't breathe. The idea of spending two weeks inside a stone room, surrounded by stonewalls, was too much. Some sick twisted part of my imagination attacked me with images of being tortured in a similar room, even though they weren't from my memories.

I stumbled backwards, right into Zach, who was equally frozen. He knew. He knew why neither of us could stay here. Bex must've read our faces because she reached out to hold my hand.

"Cam, you don't have to stay here alone. I can stay here with you. Zach will be down the hall. You're safe here."

I wanted to ask if Zach could stay here with me but there were three reasons I didn't. Firstly, my mom, who was arriving in a few hours, would kill me even though I was an adult. Second, I felt sort of disrespectful asking that of Bex's parents even though I knew they didn't care. Thirdly, well, Bex had been my roommate for years so I didn't mind her staying with me at all. What I minded was staying, period.

"Why can't I sleep in one of the rooms upstairs? I'm sure the house has rooms."

"It does but…it doesn't have the same level of security as this."

"We're on vacation, Bex! Why do we need security? None of us are in danger!"

My voice sounded squeakier than I liked but I knew she was going to just purse her lips and look away. Which is exactly what she did, keeping the same secret from me.

"Why don't we go back upstairs and we can figure out sleeping arrangements once everyone is here, okay?" Grant finally said. I could've hugged him, as I promptly went back upstairs. Mr. Baxter wasn't home, while Bex's mom appeared to be on the phone, a laptop open in front of her. Her eyes were scanning it rapidly and she barely nodded at us as we all went to the kitchen. Immediately, the boys took the barstools at the breakfast counter, while I sat on the island. Bex simply leaned beside me. None of us said anything, until forty seconds later when Mrs. Baxter walked in.

"Rachel and Joe should be here in a couple of hours, Cammie," she smiled at me, hoping to get me excited at the prospect of seeing my mom and stepdad. Zach and Grant looked up, looking just as excited. After all, Joe had been their mentor before he'd begun teaching CoveOps at our school. If not for him, I'd probably never have met Zach.

"Abby and Edward are getting in early tomorrow morning," she said, grinning at Zach. This was probably not a good idea. I beamed at the idea of seeing my aunt. But Zach looked away at the mention of Edward Townsend – my (probably) future uncle and his birth father.

I mentioned, right, that 'weird' didn't even begin to cover our family?

Mrs. Baxter continued as if nothing happened.

"Elizabeth is on her way from the airport right now. Macey's flight lands tomorrow afternoon."

"Liz is coming now? Wait, _Macey's _coming? I thought she didn't get leave at this time of the year!" I shared a look with Bex who looked just as stunned. We both grinned at each other. The four of us, back together. It was the best thing to happen all day.

Mrs. Baxter shrugged, smiling at our reception of the news before pointing to the oven.

"There's fresh biscuits in there, if you want. I'm going out for a few hours, but I trust you all will be fine. Rebecca?" she said, giving her daughter a pointed look. Bex just waved her hand, already diving for the oven.

We filled ourselves up with the cookies and hot chocolate, and conversation flowed smoother than expected. I don't know if it was because we'd travelled together the whole day or if it was the fact that we'd all gone to the same school (at least for one semester) or the fact that we'd all been on a death defying mission once, but there was next to no awkwardness with the way Bex and Grant talked to each other. Even Zach and I were a little stunned – we'd had no idea that the two of them got along so well. When the sun was close to setting, there was a knock on the front door. I quickly jumped to the window, peeping through the curtains before I heard the squealing. Turns out Bex had already opened the door.

I rushed out to the foyer and threw my arms around Liz, crushing her tiny body close to mine. She was freezing as she hugged me back and I pulled away to see her bright face. Her cheeks were already very red and her hair messed up from the wind but she looked happy. I would've continued embracing her but Grant walked past me and did the weird guy fist-bump thing with the person standing behind Liz. I looked over her shoulder, freezing as I noticed Jonas, grinning and waving at both Zach and Grant.

I should've been happy that Zach's best friends were here too.

But in my mind, my dad's voice chimed.

_Third time, and you know you've got a tail._

* * *

I was quiet that night as I lay under the soft quilt, staring at the moonlight creating shadows across the ceiling. It had taken some (a lot of) haggling with both my mom and Bex's, but I'd been allowed to sleep in the living room (apparently going one floor higher, to a comfortable bedroom, was putting too much distance between us). But everyone was too worried about me having a breakdown to convince me to sleep underground. So, I lay on the puffy, too long couch.

On the floor lay Liz and Bex, both bundled in their sleeping bags. Zach lay in his sleeping bag on the kitchen floor, fast asleep. He could've just traded the cold tile for carpet but Joe must've threatened him about the distance meant to stay between us. Either he was taking his stepfather role too seriously or he felt like he owed it to my Dad (his best friend) to give Zach the _if you hurt her _speech, but all the adults seemed to have forgotten that I was turning twenty in a few weeks.

I hadn't put up a fight though. My mind was running in another dimension, waiting for the right time. I knew none of the adults were asleep since my aunt and Townsend had arrived less than an hour ago. But all of them had retreated to the bunker. The right time finally came when I heard shuffling on the floor. I quickly closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep, knowing that Bex was sneaking off somewhere. But when my eyes opened, I was surprised to see Bex was asleep. So, was Zach. It was _Liz's _sleeping bag that lay empty.

I remembered the coded no clearance email I'd received from her a few weeks back, and when the cupboard under the staircase creaked, I knew for certain. I waited patiently, calculating the time it would take for her to go through all the security. Then I darted after her.

While the bunker may have been heated, the hallways weren't. So, I was shivering as I went through each biometric test, standing as still as possible. I couldn't let one fidgety, smudged up print set off an entire emergency protocol. Once I was through, I was glad I'd foregone the slippers. Tiptoeing towards the light in the underground kitchen, I knelt in the hallway outside. I was covered by shadows, but this was as far as I could go. My hand rested over my mouth to dampen the sounds of my breathing. After all, we were in a makeshift cave. Caves carried sound. Luckily they also amped up the volume of the hushed whispers.

"She knows," said Liz and I wondered how far we'd come along for _her_ to be doing the midnight rendezvous behind my back.

"What does she know?" That was Grant.

"I think the question is_ how much_." Jonas. Definitely Jonas. He may have gotten some hair treatment for that bad buzz cut, but his voice was still stuck in that awkward teenage stage which I recognized. I was right. His presence hadn't been a form of Christmas gift to Zach. He was in on… whatever.

"Rachel," came Joe's voice and I heard my mom take a deep breath. "She's not stupid. _I _trained her. _You _trained her. She knows none of this is a happy coincidence. Not Zach, not Grant, none of it."

So Zach _did_ now. I ought to have felt betrayal but I was used to him keeping stuff from me. I don't know which was worse.

"We can't tell her till we know for certain who died." I felt my blood run cold at what my mother was saying. "We can't scare her with half baked information."

My mind raced as I thought of Dayna. Someone had died. If someone had died, why were all of us _here, _so many miles away from her? Her protection was our responsibility and we were chatting here like idiots. I was supposed to be a part of this conversation. When it came to her protection, I was the eyeball. I _should _know this. This was the need to know which I needed to know.

"I ran all the dental records on every database I could access," mumbled Liz. "CIA, FBI, Secret Services, local police departments, Interpol, MI6, MI5. Nothing. Whoever she used, she used a civilian. A civilian with no criminal record."

"Come on, guys. We can find a civilian, no criminal record or not. Someone must've reported a missing person somewhere."

"Yeah, and finding a civilian, a missing person, can take time. Especially with no record and barely a tooth to go on. She must've taken care to have them hacked and erased. And she must've made certain that nothing of the body was left. After all, she had many moles at various levels. The world has more innocent civilians than we can find in –"

"Enough," said my mom, and I noted her voice was shaking just as badly as my hands. "I don't care how much time it takes. I need a name and a face. Because there is _still _blood on _my_ school's walls. Blood which could've been _my_ daughter's –"

"Rachel –"

"Give me a name. I need to know which innocent person's body parts are lying in a grave with the name _Catherine Goode _on it."

And that's when my world tilted on its axis.


	4. four

**I see I got positive reviews for the plot twist at the end of chapter three! I'm glad you like it. I'm sure you (and Cammie) have tons of questions, some of which will get answered in this chapter. After all, Rachel and Joe _did _say it's half baked info. That being said, this chapter will also have some fluffy moments. It _is _Christmas after all! Happy reading and do let me know what you think!**

** - Brooke xx**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Ally Carter. I don't own copyright to canon Gallagher Girls series material and only own creative and intellectual property.**

**Chapter Rating: Mild M **

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Four**

If you've ever been to the Millenium Wheel, you'll know that it's an ideal place for someone like me. Someone who loves escaping into tiny places; someone who likes for the world to slow down; someone who can see the rest of the world without being seen. But in that suffocating moment, the idea of being in an inescapable box terrified me. So, instead, I stood in the Jubilee Gardens under it, leaning against the cold railings. Frigid air swirled around me; before me rushed the Thames river. It looked so refreshing and free and I felt jealous of it. It was just what I wished to be after what I'd learned three nights ago in those suffocating bunker halls.

Nobody knew what I'd heard. Nobody had stopped me when I said I needed fresh air. Nobody asked where I was going. It was an illusion of freedom because I was sure there was somebody or the other here, with their eyes on me – looking out for me. Chills ran down my spine as tears welled in my eyes. They fell, hot on my cheeks and then turned cool in the weather. I felt someone come up to me, placing his gloved hands on the rails beside mine.

"You lied to me," I whispered, and the wind carried it. "You lied to me, again. All of you."

"We withheld," Joe Solomon corrected.

"So you know that I know. Of course, you know. You know everything and somehow I always end up knowing nothing. How is that fair?"

"We know very little. We wanted to tell you when we had something concrete to say."

"_Hey Cammie, guess what? You know that crazy woman who tried to kill you so many times? Yeah, turns out she faked her death. _That sounds pretty concrete to me."

"We don't know that for sure."

"But you have reason to suspect it. Why else would you be looking at dental records of her remains – if they're even hers."

"Because the school's still under restoration after the fire and your mother noticed something that looked suspicious."

"What?"

"The room where the explosion happened. We found remains there long ago. The remains we buried with her name on it. You know that."

Of course, I knew that. I'd been there for the funeral when Zach had refused to come. My mother had been there, because she was just that kind of woman. Other agents had been there to ensure nothing went wrong. Abby had been there for Townsend; and he had been there to say good riddance to the woman who had done nothing good for him...nothing other than give him a son he'd as good as lost with her. And I'd been there. I'd been there to watch this to its very end.

Turns out it hadn't been much of an end after all. I wondered if Catherine had watched her own funeral from the distance, laughing at me while painting another target on my back.

"But you found something suspicious?"

Joe nodded but didn't add anything. I hissed under my breath.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because we don't know who is in that casket? We don't know whom to trust. She's using civilians. Civilians who are five times harder to track."

"And you thought letting me walk blind was the way to trust me?"

"We were going to tell you. This holiday, we were going to tell you. That's why we waited till Ms. Sutton showed up to even discuss any of it. We thought Elizabeth had finally found a record from which we could work backwards."

"That's useless. If she used civilians she'd have picked people off the road, people who had nothing to lose – hence, no connections. Even if she used people who had connections, she'd have ensured their connections had no reason to report the truth because she'd have had something on them. You and I both know that every missing person report on the database, is one of millions who were lucky enough to _get _reported."

Joe didn't say anything because he knew I was right.

"My Dad would've told me."

It was a harsh thing to say. Not just because he was his best friend, but also because I was doing the one thing that is every stepfather's fear – a comparison to the one who held his place before. I finally turned to look at him and I saw his blank expression slide over the hurt one.

"Your Dad spent many, many years protecting your family –"

"And somehow, Joe, we're back to me being their target. Because they killed him. Because I knew information which he died protecting. _She _killed him. She tried to kill me, too. She tried to get me to kill myself!"

"It's not your Dad's fault you knew those things! He'd never have –"

"You didn't know my Dad –"

"I knew him much longer than you did, and don't you let yourself forget that."

"You know I thought he took me to that circus because he loved me? Because he wanted to be a normal Dad, for once. I should've known it was just another mission that I was roped into. I was his cover –"

"Stop it."

"No, _you stop it!_" I hadn't even realized my voice was raised, or that tears were running down my face, or that I felt like I couldn't breathe. Voices rushed around me, the scars on my arms itched and burned and my ears rang to that awful circus tune.

Joe took a step forward and put his hands on my shoulders, and suddenly I felt like the same little girl I'd been three years ago. Same city, same winter, and the same cold air as Joe Solomon shook me with a scared look in his eyes.

"Cammie. Stop letting her do this to you. Stop letting her poison your memories of him."

"She's not the one poisoning the trust I have in the people around me. Somehow…Catherine Goode has been the one person who's never lied to me."

The words burned him as he moved back and I wiped my tears furiously. Our tiff must've signaled something to someone because I felt footsteps behind me, warm arms around me waist. But they weren't comforting. They were scalding hot.

I pushed Zach away and he let me, taking my other side.

"Did you know?" I asked, turning on him.

"Cammie –" he reached for me. I shoved his hands away.

"Did you know, Zach?"

He didn't answer, reaching for me again, pulling me close. I put my hands on his chest and shoved him hard. He slipped on the pavement and landed on the ground, giving me a wounded look. I found myself unable to feel sorry for him. The world rushed past us and I stood in the middle of two people I loved, looking at them like they were strangers.

"Not until this morning. Grant and I were just told to keep an eye on you," he finally admitted. Of course, Dayna wasn't the assignment – I was. I turned back to Joe.

"What did my mother find in that corridor?"

There must've been something crazy in my eyes because he answered.

"She found blood in the same passage which you and Zach escaped from. It was little but it was there – a barely there trail."

"She couldn't have followed us. We were in that place less than a minute before the explosion happened."

"But you did escape. And that school is full of branches and connecting tunnels. If she knew of a room we didn't know of, then she could've known of an escape route we didn't know of."

"But she was – she was crazy. You didn't speak to her. You weren't there. She sounded like she _wanted _to die. That bomb was a suicide bomb."

"She lies." Zach practically spat the words, and I didn't know if he was mad at his own mother or me.

"You were there," I reminded him. "You saw that there was no way out."

"Cammie. Until a few minutes before that explosion, we didn't even know that room existed. We can't rule out the possibility that she made it out."

"That tunnel collapsed behind us. If she didn't explode, then the tunnel would've crushed her."

"Then we would've found a body."

"Then there's also the remains," Joe added, and I turned to him.

"What about them?"

"There were next to none. We studied the make of the bomb. Even though it was a heavy explosion, the remains were almost non-existent. But we still found enough to bury. There should've been flesh and bone and blood. But there were barely any fragments to go off of in terms of putting together any recognition. It looked like the place had been cleaned of evidence before we went there. We searched the entire blast radius. Sections were torn down and rebuilt after we searched them. You heard Elizabeth. We barely found one usable tooth and it didn't match her records. Or any faculty or students' records. Someone was in that school who wasn't supposed to be there."

"Code Black," I remembered, the memory of the school shutting down playing before my eyes.

Joe nodded.

"You've snuck out of the school time and again, Cameron. We know that there were approved authorities coming in to move Catherine Goode to a different location. Gallagher Academy is a place to keep people out. And someone got in. That's the only way the Code Black could've been triggered. From the _outside _of the sublevels_._"

"And you think it was a civilian because someone must've taken her place when the bomb went off. Someone who has no records."

"She's twisted. It makes sense for her to do that."

"But how could a civilian have gotten past our security? That's what a Code Black exists for. Even if it's tripped, it keeps people out."

"Not unless they were already in."

"So one of her moles drove in a civilian? Why? Why didn't the mole take her place?"

"Because an agent would've been given all clearances to every sublevel. Only a civilian, who made it past our front gates and then tried to get to the sublevels, could've tripped the alarm."

I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to tell him it was impossible. But it made sense. Any of the agents who had come in to move Catherine could've brought in a civilian. It would take one simple hack. A civilian who only needed front gate clearance and nothing more to trip a sublevel alarm. A civilian who could keep the double agent from getting his or her hands dirty by tripping the alarm themselves.

My head was spinning as I sat down at the base of the railing. Both the men hovered over me, either shielding me or eyeing me. I felt like I had no strength as Zach finally pulled me up by my arms and walked me to the car. Joe didn't follow us and walked in the opposite direction. Somewhere, I'm sure, positions rotated and took his place. We drove for a long time, finally stopping a few houses down from Bex's.

"Cammie," Zach whispered, pulling the car into park and turning to me. I looked at him. He took my hands in his and only when he held on tight did I realize they'd been shaking the whole time.

"Please, say something."

I could've demanded an explanation. I could've asked him why I was in need of protection without being told. I could've apologized for shoving him, or even shouted at him for lying to me again.

Somehow, all I ended up saying was, "Your mom is a bitch."

"It runs in the Goode genes. I get that from her."

He had the barest hint of a smile as he said it. I smiled in return, chuckling. Then I was laughing, harder and harder, until the tears came and I was sobbing again. He pulled me into his arms, holding me together as I cried hard.

"Oh, Cammie," he whispered, pressing his face into my neck. It made me cry harder. My breath was coming in gasps and I could tell I was on the verge of hyperventilating. My chest hurt and my head hurt. Everything inside me felt like it was falling apart. Every moment I'd spent since the night of the fire: graduation, summer, college – it all seemed like the hasty dreaming of a foolish girl. Memories poisoned by the idea of Catherine and her people watching me through all of them.

"Y-You said – you said you went crazy when I ran away."

"I did," he whispered, holding me tighter.

"Then why would you risk not telling me again?"

I seemed to be full of harsh words and threats today because when he pulled away, his expression was priceless. I tried to pull my hands free and he held on wordlessly, as if I was going to run away again. I kept crying until I had no strength to fight him. I felt like I couldn't breathe. It took me seconds to realize that no air was actually going into my lungs. Watery sobs mixed with coughs as I shook like a leaf.

"Hey," Zach finally said, rubbing my back. "Hey, just breathe. Just breathe."

"I can't," I mumbled helplessly. He hugged me close, resting his chin on top of my head.

"Yes, you can, Cammie. Yes, you can."

* * *

It was dark when we finally walked into the house. All my crying had subsided, allowing me to finally think past the emotional upheaval. Catherine was out there, probably. And I was a target. My face felt raw and red, but it could be attributed to the brutal winds blowing outside.

When we walked into the living room, my mom and Joe sat on the couch where I'd been sleeping. Bex and Liz sat on the floor, cuddled up at my mom's feet. Macey just sat in front of the fire. Her arrival had been dampened by my silent treatment of everyone. I would've regretted it if I weren't facing such a huge threat. Luckily for her, and me, she hadn't known either. So she'd been the only one I'd allowed to sleep next to me on the floor for the past three nights. Nobody had fought it because everyone knew I knew. Everyone was scared of cornering me, scared of forcing me to run. Didn't they know I wasn't a scared little girl anymore? I was angry. Not scared.

"Hey," Grant spoke from the kitchen, from where the scent of hot dinner saturated the air. I didn't feel like I had much of an appetite but everyone would be staying up late tonight. It was Christmas Eve. I nodded at him, knowing that he hadn't known either. I found myself only trusting the people who'd stayed in the dark with me. But as I looked around the room, I realized that I wasn't alone in this. Nobody in this house would let me get hurt – whether by lying or not. Twelve people in this house, not counting me, and all of them here to protect me of their own free will. My family.

"Where are the others?" I finally asked and everyone looked surprised that I was talking.

"Jonas is taking a nap," Liz rushed to explain. She still had that nervous habit of rambling. "Mr. and Mrs. Baxter are out running errands. Abby and Townsend are out, too. Where did you go? Okay, I know where you went, but Cammie, I'm so –"

"It's okay, Liz," I said, sitting down next to her.

"I didn't have clearance – I mean, _you _didn't have clearance and –"

"Liz."

" – and, Cammie, _you're my best friend. _I had to protect you. You're my best friend."

"Liz. It's okay," I stressed, taking her hands. I hadn't forgiven her. But it was _okay. _And she knew it.

"So what are we eating, Grant?" Macey spoke up. "It better be good."

She turned to look at the three of us on the floor, the girls who'd seen her go from Macey McHenry to _Macey McHenry. _The girl who had once told us _food was so yesterday. _And while it was no big deal that she was now deciding if our Christmas dinner was appetizing or not, when she winked at us, all four of us knew.

None of this was all right. But we'd be _okay._

* * *

The dinner was good. Whoever said Blackthorne Boys couldn't cook – well I doubt anyone had ever said that – was wrong. Grant could cook. _Really _cook. There were mashed potatoes and pot roast and wine, which we were allowed a glass of. There was apple pie that Zach made and it was either boy logic or Zach logic, but the apron just made him sexier. When we were all full and rested, we sat in the living room in comfortable silence, staring at the fire.

"We should open presents," I finally had the strength to mumble. The warmth and the wine and the full stomach were making me feel fuzzy. Liz, who'd been leaning her head on my blanket covered knee, looking up.

"But we have to open them on Christmas _morning_!" she insisted. She sounded like Christmas was a theorem and we were messing with the variables.

"But presents," Bex sat up.

"Rebecca, Elizabeth is right. It's tradition to open them in the morning," Mrs. Baxter said from her place on the dining table.

Macey and I shared a glance, before looking at Bex. All three of us were thinking the same thing: since when did we follow rules?

Bex and Macey both pounced on the present pile at the same time. One was tossed my way and I scrambled for it, making Liz topple over onto the floor. Nobody stopped us. Some people laughed at us; some groaned in exasperation. Everyone let us have our childish moment of fun. Once my arms were full of more presents than I could count, I plopped down in front of Zach to open them.

All in all, it was one of the better Christmases in the past few years. My mom and Joe got me a beautiful cashmere sweater. Abby and Townsend gave me a scarf (although I'm sure he had nothing to do with the gift and my aunt and Zach must've just bullied him into including his name). Mr. and Mrs. Baxter gave me a box of assorted chocolates (as if their hospitality wasn't enough). I opened it, popping a cube of caramel in my mouth as I went on to open the others. Bex had bought me a set of daggers. I don't know what she was thinking, since I'd never be able to get them past airport security or university security, but I'm sure it was the thought that counted. Liz gifted me a sweater too. It was pale pink and probably not my color, but I thanked her nonetheless. Macey gifted me a gorgeous set of chandelier earrings that I was sure I'd never wear on any occasion. But it was _Macey _and I was not surprised. Grant got me a new skin for my laptop (_of course, _he was listening when I'd been grumbling about it to Craig a few weeks ago). Even Jonas got me a box of chocolates, which I was pleasantly surprised about.

Once the Baxter living room was just clouds of box linings and wrappers, we all sat back. One by one, at some point, people started yawning and whispering goodnight. I just kept my eyes on the fire, watching the logs crackle and burn. It was like demented music to my ears, which I hummed along to. The others left. Some stayed behind. My arms wrapped around my knees, eyes growing heavy from the firelight. There was something magical to the way the flames wavered in front of me, beckoning me.

"_Above the plains up on the hill there stood a castle bold_

_A gleaming palace made of white, a pillar to behold_

_The horsemen lived in service to the castle and the crown_

_But the knights rose up and killed the kings_

_And it all burned down."_

"Cam?" came Zach's sleepy voice from beside me. I was barely aware of the fact that I was the only one awake at this point. Macey was curled up on the floor, her beautiful black hair looking like a twisted halo. Bex was sprawled on the couch, mumbling under her breath. Liz looked like a little kitten at Macey's feet, her blonde hair falling in her eyes. Beside me, Zach lay with his legs crossed, his head on his arm. His eyes were closed and I could tell he was on the stage between sleeping and waking. He didn't seem to notice that I was singing his mother's song. I curled up beside him and he curled around me, holding me close and falling deep again.

I kept staring at the fire, humming until my own eyes felt heavy.

_And it all burned down._

I don't know if it was minutes later or hours later when I shot up suddenly. Bright light shone through the curtains, piercing my bloodshot eyes and I groaned, falling back on the pillow. Someone must've moved me to the couch because all the gifts were neatly lined in the corner, the wrappings cleaned. Macey was the only other one still asleep on the floor. I couldn't hear anyone else but I could guess they were either out or underground. Then I realized it was Christmas morning. I stood up again, going to the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water. As I took a few sips, I stared outside from the window above the sink. It was raining hard and this didn't surprise me. There was nothing quiet about this holiday in this part of the world. Zach came up behind me, resting his chin on my head and I turned around, sighing. We were both still in yesterday's clothes which meant he'd probably woken up just before me.

"Happy Christmas," he whispered, leaning down to kiss me softly. I hummed, putting my arms around him, responding for a second, before shoving him away.

"Oh, ew, ew I haven't even brushed it," I groaned.

"Neither have I," he laughed, tightening his arms around me.

"You're such a boy," I said, swatting his arm and wrestling out of his hold. Before he could really follow me, I locked myself in the hallway bathroom.

* * *

Nobody had any real plans for the day. I didn't understand how all of us were pretending it was just a relaxing, mundane holiday. Rain poured, Liz rambled, Bex jumped and Macey complained. It was as if the world hadn't just shifted beneath our feet.

But then I realized it probably hadn't. This house was full of people who'd had weeks, maybe months, to process this information. I was the only one who had just found out that my life was in danger. Even Zach, Grant and Macey were handling it well - as if they were used to protecting me. This holiday was going just as planned because – it was meant to be a holiday. I wanted to ask a bazillion questions. I wanted to run out and hunt Catherine down, guns blazing. I wanted to curl up and cry.

Joe's words floated through my head. _Stop letting her poison your memories._

So, I simply smiled and flopped down on the couch with my friends and hoped to high heaven that this holiday would go smoothly. My resolve to act normal lasted probably for an hour.

"I don't get it, though," I blurted at around noon.

The six parental figures were out and about (or underground?) letting us mind our own business. We were past the stage of baby-sitting since we were all working adults now. I was sitting in front of the fire again, utilizing the boxes of chocolates I'd received, leaning against Zach's legs. The boy in question was sitting on an armchair, a _book _in his hand. I knew he liked to read but I'd rarely ever seen him actually read one. It was in Russian and somewhere, some Georgetown girl was probably swooning over Ivan. Grant was in the kitchen baking (I don't know what, but it smelled amazing). Jonas was meant to be helping him but he was fast asleep with his head on the counter. Every time he snored, a small cloud of flour rose. Grant smacked his head.

"It's fairly easy," Liz explained, assuming I was talking about the code she was writing. She tilted the lid to show me the black screen with lines and lines of random alphabets and symbols. "If you take this loop right here, and insert it into the third stack –"

"I don't think that's what she meant, Liz," Bex said, not even breaking rhythm as she continued doing sit-ups. I'd stopped counting after she crossed three hundred.

"What don't you get?" called out Grant.

"Why am I still in danger?" Behind me, Zach's legs shifted. "I mean, Catherine wanted me because I knew the names of the inner circle, right? The rest of them wanted to silence me because I might leak that list. But the inner circle is gone now. Why am I even relevant anymore?"

"Because my mother," Zach said, leaning forward, "is a sick, twisted freak. I don't know why she wants you. Maybe you heard something you shouldn't have when you were gone that summer. Stuff she's scared you'll remember again. Maybe she wants to finish what she started."

I remembered how, after that summer, I wasn't wanted alive anymore. I was just wanted dead because having me dead was easier.

"Or maybe," Macey said, calmly flipping another page of her magazine. "It's a revenge fantasy she's attempting to fulfill since you stopped World War III, and all."

"Whatever it is," Liz said. "We've got your back, Cam."

"I know, I know," I huffed.

"She's right, you know," came Abby's voice from the hallway. "We've got your back, Squirt. No matter what we have to do to protect you, we'll do it."

"I've heard that one before. It's just that – I get this whole holiday suburb thing we're doing. But what happens when we go to Georgetown? You sent in Zach and Grant to keep an eye on me, but what happens when there are further developments?"

Abby shared a look with Townsend who was standing quietly in the doorway.

"Cammie. Are you sure you want to go back to college?"

I was sure I'd heard them correctly but the question seemed like a newly developed language to my ears. Was I sure I wanted to go back to college? Uh – yes! Just because I was rolling along with their idea of a holiday didn't mean I wanted it to turn into exile. My expression must've been worth some serious gold because Abby sighed.

"There are safer places for you to be."

"I won't abandon my assignment."

"You're not abandoning your assignment. You'll be replaced –"

"No."

"Cammie – "

"I said no!"

"Agent Morgan," Townsend interjected. "A word, please?" I knew _that _voice. When he called me that he wasn't just my uncle or my boyfriend's dad. He was my direct superior and the one whose orders I was following. He may technically work for the MI6 but given how often he worked with the CIA, especially with this case, he was also my boss. He was the one who sent me on missions. He was the one whom I answered to. He was the one who had assigned me to Dayna.

I followed him outside to the foyer, and was surprised when he led the way upstairs. I'd been here a few days and I'd never seen anybody use the first floor rooms. But Townsend simply opened the nearest door, closing it behind us. The room was well made with state of the art furniture and technology. But the layer of dust and the stillness of the air made it look like a museum.

"Is there something on your mind, Agent?"

There were a lot of things on my mind, but I had the sense to keep my words and tone collected.

"I understand the risk I am under, but I won't abandon Dayna. She needs me."

"There are equally, if not better, trained professionals capable of replacing you, Agent. Are you aware of that?"

"Yes, sir. But I was trained to protect people. My job is to be her guard. If I were being replaced for any reason other than my own safety, I would not hesitate to back down. But I'm being told I might have to be removed from the field because I need to go under heavy protection and that is not what I am trained for."

"Hmm. Agent Morgan, are you aware that when agents are targets and they don't get out of the firing range, more often than not, they go missing or get killed in action? Are you aware that these situations have implications on _everyone _they are in contact with?"

How could he ask me that? My Dad died for this and I was still paying the price for it. I probably always would. I stared at him wordlessly and he took a step forward.

"Agent, I asked you a question."

"Yes, sir."

"Agent Morgan, _what _exactly was your mission when you chose to take it, sixteen months previously?"

"To take eyeball position on Dayna Lawson as her roommate and classmate at Georgetown University without her knowledge of this."

"And who exactly was the threat?"

"Members of the Circle of Cavan, post failed assassination of Princess Amirah," I admitted.

"Has it occurred to you that if you stay close to Ms. Lawson, then you are both targets which can be taken out in one move? Or that someone targeting you could get to her?"

"I-"

"Has it occurred to you that in your idealistic attempt to be a _bloody hero, _you'd be risking her life? A life you _say _is more precious than yours but you _clearly _don't mean?"

I bit my lip to prevent myself from asking him to shut up. He noticed because he backed off, crossing his arms and leaning against the dresser. Silence hung thick between us.

"Why did you send Zach and Grant if you weren't planning on letting me stay at Georgetown?" I finally asked.

"Because you needed them till the winter break came around."

"So now three students will be leaving, and be replaced?"

Townsend sighed.

"Cameron," he said. For the first time, he sounded tired. I think it was too daring of me to hope he actually cared but I knew he did care about two people who would be devastated if something happened to me.

"Believe it or not, you'll just be getting in the way. Sometimes it's better to back off even when it's the hardest thing to do. Removing the three of you and moving you will bring more unwanted attention. I won't do that. But you'll have to shift residence, and you'll be assigned your own guard. Is that okay?"

"Are you –"

"Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you'll have to hand over all briefing material you have, relevant to Dayna Lawson, the moment we return. Your access to any of her records will be revoked. Your access to all higher clearance databases will be revoked. As of now, you are nothing more than a college student and an agent under suspension. An assignment. Do you get that?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Then he simply turned on his heels and moved to leave. Just as he opened the door, he crossed paths with Zach. I walked forward and put my arms around my boyfriend, who watched his father go down the steps.

"What was that about?"

"I think I just got debriefed."

"You want to get out of here?"

"Yes, please."

* * *

"You know," I said, licking the melting chocolate ice cream off my fingers. We were probably out of our minds because it felt like it was cold enough to snow, our noses were frozen and the icy dessert made my fingers numb. But I loved ice cream in winter and apparently, so did Zach.

"I never got a present from you."

The cold air blew my hair in different directions as we walked through Piccadilly Circus. Twinkling Christmas lights crisscrossed over the road, flashing and sparkling against the evening sky. The sound of cars, buses, people and music blurred around me. I happily ignored the multiple tails I had, knowing that they were on _my _side. It was Christmas. If they wanted me in holiday mode, holiday Cammie is what they were going to get.

"You didn't?" he smirked, his arm around my shoulders. _His _ice cream didn't seem to be melting as fast as mine, which seemed ridiculously unfair. He noticed my gaze and made a show of taking a bite of the coffee scoop. Who _bites _their ice cream anyway?

"Nope."

"I thought being with me was the best present ever." I gave him a look, which he only returned with a sly smile. It _was _true. This outing with him was the closest thing to an amazing, carefree holiday I'd had since coming to London. While nothing had happened to raise any alarms, it was obvious that I was being babysat in that house. I preferred this kind of babysitting where at least I didn't feel suffocated.

But _still. _Even I got him a gift. I could see the glint of the silver chain underneath his collar. It was a simple thing – the pendant was a tiny dagger, pretty much the size of my thumb. Of course, it wasn't just a dagger _shaped _pendant. It could actually work as a tracker, a weapon and a flash drive. I thought it was pretty amazing, and I hoped that him wearing it meant that he thought so too.

Noticing my staring, he stopped walking. Instead, he simply leaned against one of the walls near the shops, pulling me closer. I nearly dropped my ice cream when he put an arm around my waist and yanked my body right up to his, whispering in my ear.

"Do you really want a gift?" he asked. I'm pretty sure he'd pulled me close so that I could hear him better through the crowd, but at that moment I wasn't hearing much of anything. His breath was warm against my ear and in the cold wind, it made me shiver.

"Not _really, _I mean I'm not asking for one – " I said, my free hand curling through his jacket to steady myself. I bit down the cone with my other hand, desperate to finish the ice cream quickly. My hands felt like my blood was turning to ice.

"But would you like one?" he asked again, kissing my jaw.

I wanted to make a sound that meant _affirmative_ but it sounded more like mewling.

"You remember our CoveOps mission? In Roseville?" he asked, taking another bite of his ice cream. I nodded, wondering where he was going with this. Then realization hit me. Brush pass. My hands shuffled through my coat pockets until they closed around a tiny drawstring pouch. I finished my ice cream with one final bite, brushing the waffle dust off my fingers and then opening the pouch. Inside it was a beautiful bracelet that made my heart stop.

No, literally, I felt like my heart stopped because a tiny electric shock went through me.

Zach swallowed the ice cream in his mouth before explaining.

"That button you just pressed?" he asked, pointing to the tiny clasp I had my finger on. "It synced our positions. Our trackers," he said, pointing to his chain, "Are linked now. You can always re-sync it when you want but –"

"How does it work? I mean what does it do?"

"You can program any mile radius into it and if I'm ever out of that mile radius, you'll know. It's handy for keeping an eye –"

"On me. When we go back to Georgetown."

"I thought you'd like it –"

"I do! I love it." And I did. The metal twisted and turned into ornate floral patterns, and it had a dull glow to it as if it had centuries old stories to tell. "It means I can keep an eye on you too."

"I thought you'd say that." Zach chuckled.

"You know me well," I smiled, putting the bracelet on. He helped me put it on before throwing away the rest of his unfinished ice cream. I wanted to tell him it was a waste but the expression on his face stopped me from doing so.

"What's wrong?" I asked, leaning closer. My hands went around his waist from under his jacket, warming themselves between the lining and the cardigan he wore underneath.

"Nothing," he smiled, pushing back some of the hair falling in my face. He kissed the tip of my frozen nose and I wrinkled it.

"No secrets. Not the ones we don't have to keep. Remember?"

He looked like he was admitting some great weakness to me, which I didn't understand.

"Do I really?"

"Do you really what?"

"Know you."

It might've been a trick question but the expression on his face scared me. I'd never seen him look so…vulnerable. His jaw was clenched and his eyes – they looked like a violent storm was brewing on a dark night. I whispered his name, pressing a kiss to his neck and he pulled me closer.

"When you left –" he started, and then cleared his throat. "Bex told your mom that I told you to run away. She said that I didn't know you well enough. If I did, I'd never have told you that _and _expected you to take me with you."

"She was _angry _–"

"And she was right. I should never have put that idea in your head."

"That's like saying Liz shouldn't have put the idea of a war in the Circle's head. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have stopped me."

"You could've died. You could've _died. _There was a chance you wouldn't have come back to us, Cam." His voice was shaking a little and I tightened my hold on him. "I thought that was over. I thought I had to stop worrying about – about losing you. Do you know what it was like when Townsend came to me with this new assignment? To keep an eye on you?"

"You said you didn't know about your mom –"

"I didn't. All Grant and I knew was that we had reason to keep eyes on you. And that was enough. I should've known the danger wouldn't end with her. And now it turns out she didn't end at all."

"Yeah well, I could've helped with handling that if those _overly_ smart adults told me things from –"

"You still have a habit of calling them _the adults _even thought you're one too."

I smiled at that. I'd never noticed it until he pointed it out. Time and again I cursed them for forgetting how old I was but, more often than not, I was the one who still acted like a child guilty of doing something I shouldn't.

"Probably because they still treat me like a kid."

"Townsend doesn't."

"He never has."

"I don't."

The irony of that was almost hilarious. Townsend never babysat me. Zach never coddled me (almost). Catherine was always upfront with me. No wonder they were all related in some way. I decided not to voice this.

"I think we'd have a problem if you treated me like a kid, Zach," I teased. "I mean the things we do –"

"What things?" he asked, feigning innocence. His expression stated that he wanted me to describe exactly what things he had in mind but I couldn't bring myself to. I just blushed a little, smacking his chest before pulling away and blending into the crowd.

"Wait up, Gallagher Girl," he called out from behind me, grabbing my hand and pulling me back.

"Don't _run _from me," he whispered. His words were lost in the gusts of winds that were picking up. Above us, the hanging decorations whipped around, creating funny noises.

He looked up, pursing his lips.

"We should get back. The weather's picking up."

He started to speak into his comm unit but I was quicker than him. I was already crossing the road the moment the light turned green and he followed, hot on my trail.

"Where are you going?"

"Let's take a bus."

"That's not safe."

"We have trackers."

"We can't lose a tail with a bus."

"Then we'll switch lines. We'll mix up buses and trains."

"Cammie –"

"You said you wanted to give me a gift. I want this day to end as normally as it started."

"I did give you a gift –"

"One without ulterior motive."

"That bracelet isn't an ulterior motive," he said. He looked almost hurt at the insinuation. I almost felt guilty.

"I've had that for years. I thought I'd give it to someone special."

I didn't wait for him to say further. I was already getting onto the bus and I know I was leaving him with no choice but to follow. It was no surprise that the woman with the pea coat – who'd been following us for two hours, now – took a seat behind us. I didn't care. Holiday Cammie was on the loose.

It should've taken us an hour by car – a little over if we drove in circles to lose tails. But with the mixed up bus and trains, it took us almost three. We got off at random stations; backtracked multiple times. We laughed at the ticket counters and stole kisses by the train platforms. We looked like a tourist couple that was making the most of Christmas.

It was almost midnight by the time we walked up the porch of the safe house.

My eyes strayed to the windowpanes; my hands rested on the glass. I could feel the steady thrum of the alarm systems that had been set in place after dinner; systems which went beyond burglar alarms. Zach slid across the panel that was the doorbell, punching in the codes that would lead to biometric scans.

I guess everyone was expecting us to come in late. By the time we walked into the foyer, the lights were off and the house was quiet. I could make out the sleeping bags in the living room that signaled that Bex, Liz and Macey were already asleep. I wondered what they'd done the whole day. Zach pulled me back into the foyer, putting his arms around me.

"Thank you," I whispered, as he hugged me tight, his head resting on my shoulder. "For a wonderful, _normal_ day."

"The night's not over yet, Gallagher Girl."

There was a mischievous glint in his onyx like eyes, with an undercurrent of the same desperation he'd had since we'd come to London. He didn't want to let me go. He never wanted to let me go.

And I was not complaining.

We both left our soaked shoes near the front door, tiptoeing up the stairs. He led me to a different room than the one I'd been debriefed in. This one was larger, but done up just as elaborately. Two thousand thread count sheets, soft faux fur carpets, dark wood furniture with carvings. The electric fireplace was humming and I noticed that this room had no dust or lingering sense of emptiness. This room looked like it was fit for royalty. There were no lights on but little electric tea lights were placed across various surfaces (it looked like the work of Liz, complying with fire safety hazards and also keeping sure that no lights died out by the time we got home). I turned around to look at him, my mouth open in surprise.

He had already locked the door, and was shedding his jacket. Whatever questions I had, died on my lips as he closed the gap between us. His lips were on mine and they tasted like winter and coffee ice cream. I groaned as his hands feverishly removed my coat, then my sweater, and then my shirt. My hands returned the favor, desperately getting his clothes off. He backed me into the dresser, making the decorations on it tremble. A lamp rolled off, and we both reached out to catch it, without breaking the kiss. He tossed it onto the armchair, picking me up. His hands were like fire, trailing up my leg and wrapping it around his waist.

I broke the kiss to undo his sweater buttons and his lips attacked my neck instead. I whispered his name, giving up on the buttons and just ripping his shirt off. The buttons scattered on the floor, the sound muffled by the carpet.

"I liked that shirt."

"I like it on the floor," I groaned, and then sharply hissed as he bit down on my neck. My fingers curled in his hair and yanked his head back. He stared at me, raising an eyebrow and I kissed him again. There was absolutely nothing gentle about it; a steaming contrast to the romantic and cute day we'd spent. He put me down to undo my pants and I swatted his hands away. Placing my hands on his chest, I pushed him hard and he landed on the bed.

He looked stunned for a second before he propped himself up on his elbows, staring at me. His dark brown eyes looked almost black in the lighting; like little black holes ready to suck me into oblivion. I sincerely hoped I looked as seductive as I felt. But that worry was almost completely erased by the lust burning between us. I peeled off my jeans, and then got rid of my underwear and bra. As soon as I crawled over him, straddling him, he was quick to sit up and run his hands over my body.

"Zach?" I groaned as his fingers dug into my sides, pulling me closer, his lips leaving kisses across my collarbone. He hummed in response.

"You don't really do halfway measures when it comes to gifts…do you?"

"Nope," he mumbled in my ear, his teeth grazing my earlobe. My back arched in response and both of us hissed at the skin to skin contact it led to. My hands curled over his shoulder, the bracelet scratching his skin. His silver chain pressed coolly between our heated bodies.

"Let me guess. You roped in Liz and –"

"Cameron."

He pulled away, staring into my eyes as if he was about to reveal the world's biggest secrets. His gaze roamed across my flushed skin and then settled on my lips again.

"What?" I whispered.

"Stop talking."

And I did. Oh, I did.


	5. five

**This was probably one of the harder chapters for me to write, so bear with me. I guess that's what happens when Catherine Goode is let out again. This one and the next ones are going to be equally hard to write (I'm sure you'll read why). But until then, I am ever grateful for your support and love. I hope you guys like it and do leave me a review, so I know I'm doing good!**

**- Brooke xx**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Ally Carter. I don't own copyright to canon Gallagher Girls series material and only own creative and intellectual property.**

**Chapter Rating: T**

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Five**

Here's the thing about being a spy in love with another spy. There's no such thing as _gentle _with us. We're taught to fight from the moment we can walk. Our actions are loud, our nerves strung too tight. We're too on edge at all times. Slow and languid is not the way we do it. Fast, impatient – those are the rules we work with. I know we have the capability of being silent watchers (_spy_) but we can also be pretty volatile.

So when you put two of us together in the same room, expect us to shed inhibitions _and_ add raging hormones? It's pretty much always a battle.

Luckily for me, when you're battling with Zach, the outcome is always a win-win.

Still, a battle is a battle. And when you battle for nights together, well – it's bound to make you feel like sleeping for the rest of the day.

I'm pretty sure everyone _knew_ where we were sleeping but they were either too awkward to mention it or they were pretending it wasn't happening. But somehow, wherever we nodded off, we always ended up in this room that we'd discovered on Christmas night.

It was no surprise that the sun was already high in the sky. I could feel it burning red behind my eyelids and I wanted to burrow deep into the bed and sleep. The room had the warmth from the fireplace and the sheets felt toasty. It took me a second to realize the light wasn't what had woken me up. It was a hand, brushing across my bare shoulder.

And it wasn't Zach's.

Instinct and adrenaline had me forgetting my sore body within seconds.

_She's here. Catherine is here._

I grabbed the feminine wrist, using surprise as my advantage and throwing her over me. Using her own weight against her, I rolled us over, pinning her to the bed in the space between Zach and I. He was startled awake, sitting up.

Except it wasn't Catherine. It was Macey. And she looked amused as hell.

"I volunteered to come into this kingdom of _loving _so I could wake you up. I didn't volunteer for some freaky threesome," she said, raising her eyebrows.

The door to the room was flung open and whatever Bex was about to say died at the back of her throat. She took in the scene in front of her: Zach sitting in bed, shirtless; Macey pinned between us; me, naked, and rolled up in a fluff of blue sheets. She stared, shook her head, and then walked out again, closing the door behind her.

I released Macey from the grip I had on her, cradling the sheets close to my body. She pushed herself off the bed, brushing herself as if she'd been rolled around in germs.

"I figured I should let you guys know it's way past breakfast. And that the parents are getting impatient. I know they don't say much but finding you in the nude would probably change that."

I don't know what was more traumatizing: the idea of my mom finding us like this, the idea of my boss finding us like this or Macey saying 'in the nude'.

Zach groaned, turning over and burying his face in the pillow. He looked like a lazy teenager and not someone who was trained to wake up at the crack of dawn to work on drills. I'm pretty sure he was just groaning at the idea of getting out of the room. Macey winked at us and walked out, but not before calling out,

"And have a shower! You guys stink of sex."

"Macey!" I screeched, throwing a cushion in her direction but she'd already shut the door.

I ended up taking her advice and showered. So, by the time Zach and I got downstairs, I felt refreshed and more awake. I had multiple explanations and excuses ready in my head for waking up so late but they all left me the moment I saw the two packed bags in the foyer. I turned into the living room where Abby and Townsend stood in jackets and boots, as if they were going somewhere.

"What's going on?" I asked, crossing my arms. Abby turned to us, trying not to smile at our fresh appearances. I don't think I've ever seen Townsend look more awkward.

"You're leaving." My voice sounded an awful lot like an accusation. I don't know why, especially since they'd never promised to stay till after New Years. Fear trickled into my brain as I turned to Townsend.

"Is Dayna okay?"

"I told you, you're no longer on that assignment."

"I'm asking as her friend."

"This isn't about Ms. Lawson. There have been other developments which require our attention."

"About Catherine? About something to do with me?"

"Contrary to popular belief, the world does _not _revolve around you."

If it were anybody else, I'd have at least dreamed of punching them. In fact, right now, I pictured shoving one of those drugged apples into his mouth, the same way we'd drugged him in school. But if he was joking about this (and I know what his idea of humor is) then clearly it wasn't serious. He wasn't the joking type at all.

"What Ed _means _is that we're going to head back early because other assignments call for us," Abby said, smiling widely and throwing her arms around me. I hugged her back automatically, wondering if I was being paranoid or not. There was a good chance they really were leaving early; probably going to some pre planned, couple idea of a holiday. Maybe they were just getting back to work. Or maybe, they were hiding things again.

Townsend just shook my hand and told me he'd be in touch. I nodded at him and watched him watching Abby, who was talking to Zach. I don't know what she was saying but it must've been about me because both of them kept looking at me. I wondered how they saw each other. Did she see him as my boyfriend? Or _her _boyfriend's son? Did he see her as my aunt? Or his future stepmom?

I shook my head hard. I really did not want to go through this again. Every time I tried to do draw a mental family tree, I ended up giving myself a headache.

Abby patted him on the shoulder and walked to the door where Macey stood. Apparently she'd also volunteered to drive them to the airport. This didn't surprise me. To Macey, Abby was a hero. Anybody would be your hero if they took a bullet for you. Townsend caught Zach's eye and the two of them stared at each other for fifty seconds before nodding. I knew it wouldn't be at least two hours until Macey returned so I decided to do the one thing I hadn't done since stepping into this house on that first day.

I decided to go to the sublevels.

* * *

"Cameron?" came my Mom's voice from somewhere deep in the caves. I wasn't feeling particularly guilty until I heard her call out for me. I mean _technically_ I was on suspension and Townsend had said I couldn't access any of the usual stuff I could. But I still had _some _clearance. And the files I was going through were of lower clearance than even eighth grade Gallagher girls had. But when I saw my mother round the hallway, I quickly hid the file behind my back. I must say it wasn't the highlight of my stealth moments because she could _see _that I was hiding something.

She gave me a _what are you up to now _look. I sighed and sat down on the couch. The room seemed to be an office of some sort. File cabinets were pushed against rough walls, with bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The couch I sat on was the only couch there was. The rest of the room was scattered with tables and uncomfortable looking chairs.

My mom sat beside me, prying the file from my hands. As soon as she opened it, she sucked in a sharp breath. Before her eyes lay my Dad's history. Of course, it was a watered down history because some of the things he did needed higher clearance to read about. But there were photographs of him paper clipped to it and I saw her running her fingers over it. The rays of the lightbulb glinted off her new engagement and wedding ring and she curled her fingers tight. I immediately took the file from her. This...this is why I didn't want her to see.

"Keep going," she whispered. "Whatever you were looking for."

I knew better than to argue with her, so I kept flipping the pages until I came to the last one. This one wasn't worn like the others. It was crisp and clean and freshly typed, and across it was the official status of my father. No longer was the last page : M.I.A. No longer would I be able to hold this close to me and dream of some island where he was under cover and sipping ice tea. No. This one said "Killed In Action". I could close my eyes and see the grave he'd been put in. I could close my eyes and see the fresh service we'd had for him. I could even feel the scrapes of the rough wall where we'd both scratched our initials.

"You miss him." It wasn't a question she asked me. It was a simple statement which didn't need to be agreed with. Of course, I missed him. Of course, I did.

"Joe told me what you said that day...near the river. How you -"

"I was angry, Mom."

"And you still are. And you always will be, because you will always ask yourself if we were just a cover. If our moments meant anything to him. I know you, Cameron. You will pick apart our lives for every carefree moment of happiness until you find an ulterior motive to each one. And where will that leave us? It'll leave us devastated. And where will that leave Catherine? Victorious."

I didn't say anything as I stared at the walls, pretending like tears weren't burning at the back of my eyes. My mom took my hand and pulled me closer. So, I lay down and let my head rest in her lap.

"Your father loved you. He loved us very much. Don't ever let anyone make you believe otherwise."

"I won't. I promise."

"Good. Because your father was a brilliant agent. But he was an even better father."

I didn't mean to ask the question. But I blurted it out before I could really stop myself.

"Do _you _miss him?"

I looked up at her and saw pain, similar to mine, mirrored in her eyes. For a second, I remembered my mother sitting alone in her office and crying to herself.

"Cammie -"

"I'm not trying to be mean," I said. "I know you're happy now. And I am _so _happy for you. We couldn't have asked for a better person to be a part of our family, really. Joe loves you. But do you miss Dad? Will you forget Dad?"

"How can I when you'll always be by my side?" she whispered. And then one single tear drop fell from her eyes. I'd never thought I'd see that. I pulled her close, and found it in myself to understand why she was trying so hard to keep me close to her. She couldn't lose me like she lost him. Not again. I didn't forgive her either. But I understood _why. _Hadn't Macey and I both lied to Bex when we thought her father was MIA? Hadn't we wanted her to have a few more moments of happiness before we were absolutely positive of the news we had to give her? So, yeah. I didn't forgive it - but I _got it._

"Will you stop loving him if you love Joe?"

"Do you still love Josh, Cammie?"

"What?" I asked, pulling away. "Mom, I love _Zach-"_

"Oh, _I know_," she said and I blushed hard, remembering that she knew we were sharing a room. "I know you love him very much. I don't doubt it for a second. Josh would've been your connection to a normal life. But you've never been a normal girl and you shouldn't have to settle for a normal boy. Josh deserves better than sitting at home and waiting for you to come back. And you deserve better than going out and fighting the world alone."

I remembered the night we'd all been set up and how I'd jumped from the roof with Zach. How all I'd thought was that I'd never have to jump alone again.

"I know you don't want him. I know you're happy. But do you love Josh?"

"Yes, but not like Zach - I mean, I was fifteen -"

"Cammie. I didn't ask if you're in love with Josh. I asked if you love him. Plain and simple. Do you care for him? Do you wish for him to be happy wherever he is? Will he always hold a special place for you? Memories which you will always cherish?"

"Yes."

"Then you have to know that I will always love your Dad. He gave me a wonderful life. He gave me _you._ He was my first love. I'll always love him, Cameron. I learnt so much from him, just like you learnt from Josh. We will grow up and move on but we will always, always have a place in our hearts for him."

And maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe my Dad _was_ in spy heaven, sipping drinks and watching us through some state of the art, other worldly comm system and laughing at our antics. Happy. Carefree.

I nodded, and then quickly wiped my face as I heard footsteps echoing. My mom straightened herself, coolly hiding the file under the couch cushion. I looked up as Macey walked in, her face brightening as she saw me. Had it already been two hours?

"There you are," she called out. "Come on. We have to leave soon."

"Where are we going?" I asked, looking from my mom to her.

"Cammie, it's New Years' Eve! We can't not celebrate!" she said, as if I was a complete idiot.

"But...where can we go? New Years' is one of the least safe nights of the year, even for civilians! What -"

"Oh, Cam. You're going to party with me tonight. And don't let anyone say that Macey McHenry doesn't know how to throw a party."

* * *

Macey McHenry most certainly knew how to throw a party, and I wasn't going to let anyone tell me otherwise. Sometimes I forgot she'd spent her entire life attending parties with state of the art security. Both her parents had too much money and pride for their own good, and handling it had been in her genes. Of course, this one went to a whole new level. Because Macey wasn't just a senator's daughter anymore. She was part of the Secret Service. And she was a Gallagher Girl who would never throw one of her own under the bus. So, she'd done what she had to do.

The hotel we entered was well over forty floors high, all shiny windows and fancy glass. The cars which rolled in and out were of the best makes in the entire world. I remembered what the whole of Roseville thought of our school. That we were snobbish, rich kids who had nothing better to do than attend tea parties and galas. That we housed heiresses, future actors, businessmen and lawyers' children. But seeing this building I knew Gallagher wasn't the place for mindless cash spending. _This was. _The lobby was bustling with hotel staff and security personnel. I realized that every person attending the parties here tonight would have body guards with them. Nothing - nothing could get past these walls tonight. Especially not a terrorist group looking for plain old me.

"So," Macey directed as she walked us down the lobby, waving at one of the guards who stood in front of the elevators. They flashed her a smile and checked all our IDs before leading us down another hallway with another elevator. This one had a fingerprint scanner and once we were all in, she turned to us. There were seven of us - four girls, three guys. Young, college age kids. We blended right in. "We'll be under disguise, of course, but nothing too heavy. I've been to parties here before. They're almost always too crowded to tell one person apart from the other. We've all got rooms throughout the hotel and I'll give you the keycards once we decide who's staying where."

"What about cameras and comms?" questioned Jonas. He looked a little nauseous, as if partying wasn't really his style.

"They'll be there. We won't let anything go wrong tonight."

The elevator chimed and the display said :TERRACE. I felt my body freeze. The last time I'd been led to a terrace by Macey - she saw the expression on my face.

"Don't worry. This - this is where we party tonight."

* * *

"Ow," I mumbled as Macey snapped my bra back in place. She'd just finished wiring my entire communication system under my getup, a small speaker clipped to the middle of my bra. The invisible, wireless ear piece was connected to my earrings and stuffed into my ear. My mess of a blonde-brown hair had been worked with Macey magic. I thought she'd expect me to curl it or tie it up but she'd flat ironed it (and nearly ripped it out in the process, I felt) until it sashayed down my back. She'd even clipped on streaked extensions here and there.

"Liz," I said, walking out of the bathroom and into the room. She had two laptops out, constantly screening multiple cameras and comm units, working with the security personnel. Jonas sat on the bed, eyeing his own laptop, which tracked all our locations. Both of them would be staying in tonight. I'd initially felt a little bad for them but then I'd remembered that they readily volunteered. Perhaps I should've felt bad for them if they were being made to go. They worked in silence, used to each other after working together for more than a week. When they'd first arrived together, I'd thought it was a bizarre coincidence that they worked together. That was before I'd known I was being put on their watch list. Turns out Jonas had been in Tokyo for the past few months and when he'd heard from Zach and Grant that I needed help, he'd readily agreed. My bodyguards had flown in from around the world and I felt humbled watching them. They were like magnets. He moved, she moved. She moved, he moved. But never did they get in each others' way.

"Yeah, Cam," she asked, without looking away from her screen. She must've guessed the probability of the questions I could ask because she smiled and looked up.

"I'll be fine. I'll be right with you," she said, tapping her ear.

"I know -"

"Let's go!" Macey called out and I knew she, of all people, was fit to handle a President's kid. When she talked, the room listened.

We got into the elevator again, and since there were other people going in and out, it was a tight fit. Macey's arm was wrapped around my waist and I felt dull in comparison to how beautiful she looked. She'd left her hair open, and her body was wrapped in tight black leggings and a clingy layered combo. She'd reminded me that it was a New Years' style rave and not a ball. This time when the elevator chimed, I wasn't scared. The doors opened, the cold air hitting us as the music and crowd blared.

We stepped out, walking up to the organizers who checked our IDs and invites. Behind the glass doors I could see the party going. Strobe lights had been fixed to the sides of the building, cutting through smoke machines. There was a DJ in the far corner. The crowd moved to the music, covered in all kinds of neon colored paint and accessories, creating a black light silhouette against the London air. Initially, I'd been skeptical of the terrace idea. We'd be out in the open. But the way the wind whipped around us and only random neon stood out in the dark, I knew that no sniper could get to us tonight. Macey knew what she was doing.

"Split up, guys," Jonas' voice rang in my ear and Zach grabbed my hand, pulling me to a different corner of the terrace. We pushed through the crowd until we reached a booth where they were giving out paints. So that's why I'd been told not to go heavy on the make up. Zach took a small pot of neon green, dipping his fingers into it and spreading it across my cheeks. I laughed, grabbing pink paint and rubbing it onto his face.

"Pink? Seriously?"

"Paint? Seriously?" I mimicked him and he laughed and pulled me closer. Some of the pink paint splattered on his shirt - a simple button up over a plain t-shirt. Only he could make that look weirdly sexy. I put my arms around him, pulling him into the dancing crowd. His hands never left me as we moved to the music. Well, not so much _moved _, as remained pressed against each other as the crowd moved around us. It was like we were part of a huge, living, breathing entity.

"Did I tell you," he whispered in my ear. His own voice went to his speaker, echoing his words in my comm unit. I cringed, knowing that probably everyone could hear, and hoped the music was too loud. "That you look unbearably sexy, tonight?"

His hands fingered the layers of tank top that had been put on me. They felt warm, but my arms and shoulders felt cold.

"You didn't mention it but you might've thought it once or twice," I responded. There was something about the way Zach Goode looks at you that makes you feel good looking. I'd always felt like a chameleon - my whole life I felt nondescript. And with him, it's not like I felt like some kind of bombshell. No. He made me love my nondescript appearance. And I loved him for it.

But he wasn't listening. His eyebrows were raised as he looked behind us and I turned. Bex was dancing to the music which was no surprise. Bex liked a good party. She swayed and she moved and if we'd been in senior year, I would've clawed Zach's eyes out. But I knew he thought of her as a sister, so his shocked expression wasn't at her dancing. It was at the fact that the arms around her were of Grant's. They weren't exactly _dirty _dancing since he kept his distance. But there was something about the way they moved around each other which made me feel like I was interrupting something.

"Well, looky here. You learn something new everyday," Macey snickered over the comm unit.

"What?" Liz asked, her voice panicky. Of course. She couldn't see.

"Liz, message Tina Walters and tell her she should stop the Dirty Dancing marathons and replace them with Bex and Grant tapes -"

"Go screw yourself, Macey," came Bex's voice. I could see that she hadn't broken rhythm but the amused look on her face said she wasn't angry either.

"Would you look at that," I turned back to Zach, chuckling.

"I, unfortunately, am," he groaned, snapping his attention back to me.

And we kept dancing, letting the crowd drown us all out. For one night, we partied it up. We accepted drinks (though mostly non alcoholic, so we remained alert). We threw paint. We switched up partners (let me assure you, Grant may cook a mean lasagna but he sucks at dancing. Bex on the other hand...). We even screamed and shouted requests to the DJ until the music was turned down and the countdown started.

"10...9...8..."

I grinned happily, feeling completely giddy. My hair was a mess by now, and most of the paint and make up had blurred with the sweat from dancing. Beside me, Bex whistled loudly, finishing her lime tonic in one smooth motion. She put on quite the show of looking drunk but I knew she hadn't had a sip of alcohol the entire night. Grant had his arm loosely thrown around her. If I'd looked too quickly, he'd look like someone simply guiding her through the crowd. But again from their expressions, I could tell that wasn't the case. If Liz and Jonas were like magnets with similar fields, skirting around each other, Grant and Bex were like magnets with opposite fields, moving closer to each other.

"..4...3...2.."

I tossed my hands up in the air along with the crowd, just as the countdown hit zero.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Macey screamed on the comm unit and threw herself at me, holding me in a tight embrace. I hugged her, then I hugged Bex and Grant. I even wished everyone who could hear on the comm unit. Then I threw my arms around Zach, expecting a kiss. But he has a flair for the dramatic sometimes. He lifted me off my feet, kissing me hard, ignoring the crowd around us. I lost myself in the kiss, allowing myself this moment of unadulterated joy as fireworks blasted around us.

"Happy New Year," he whispered in my ear, putting me down, just as the fireworks shot through the sky. Hadn't I hoped for this to happen, once? For him to just show up and whisk me away to happiness and safety? I suppose the safety bit was asking for a bit much but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel completely content in that moment. I turned to look at the night sky in awe.

"Happy New Year," I whispered in return, leaning back against him. In front of me I could see Bex and Macey leaning against the railing, both of them watching the fireworks too. What surprised me was that while Bex's head was resting on Macey's shoulder, it was Grant's hand that was interlaced with hers. Well, not so much interlaced, as holding hers over the railing. I didn't know if I was supposed to be surprised or not.

Beside us, guests screamed and shouted. Confetti showered us, mixed with glitter and neon paint. Champagne bottles were uncorked. Couples kissed, music blared and overheard, the sky shimmered. It was as if we were on another planet altogether, hovering over the streets of London. But the entire city seemed to be one, screaming and shouting, illuminating the winter with fire and sparks. It was a new year. A new start - well, as much of a start as you could get with being me.

"Let's go!" a teenager beside me shouted, barreling past Zach.

"I'm bored!" Even though I couldn't smell anything funky off of him, his eyes were bloodshot which led me to believe he wasn't entirely sober.

"Five more minutes! The sky's so pretty!" his friend said and waved him off.

"And you're wasted. Let's go find some rich girls to mess with."

That's when it happened.

Time felt like it slowed down beside me. I remembered senior year, when Liz had done extensive research on what could trigger memories. Sometimes it was a smell, or a sound, or a vision of a place. Sometimes it could be a word.

Suddenly I wasn't on the rooftop in London anymore. I was sitting, wedged beside Dillon, in a tiny booth at Roseville's local diner. The smell of fries and DeeDee's perfume saturated the air. Laughter hung around me, and despite the cold air, I felt unbearable hot and sticky. Music played in the background as Dillon explained his plan to go mess with the Gallagher Girls. To bring a group of civilians into our walls.

I felt like I'd been dunked in ice water.

"Oh my god," I exclaimed, straightening up. In front of me, Bex and Macey both turned, having heard my exclamation on their comm units.

"What? Gallagher Girl?" Zach asked, turning me around to look at him. His eyes looked worried as his arms tightened on my shoulders. His gaze darted around, looking for something that might be off.

"Oh my god," I said, taking his hands and squeezing them tightly.

"Josh!"

Zach recoiled as if I'd slapped him across the face. He tried to let go of my hands but I was holding on too tightly. His face had morphed from one of worry into one of cool indifference. He jaw clenched as he swallowed.

Didn't he understand? Didn't he see?

"My name is _Zach,_" he said, some venom laced with his words.

What was he going on about? This was monumental! Behind me Bex came up, tapping me on the shoulder.

"What's going on, Cam?"

I spun to her and Macey, knowing _they'd _understand.

"Do you guys remember when I came back from my date with Josh? How I was worried about what Dillon had said? About how he always joked about getting his friends into school and messing around with us?"

Bex and Macey looked at each other and I could see the cogs turning in their head. Grant still stood by the far railing but I could tell he was hanging onto every single word he could hear. At once, Bex went back to Grant, and Macey grabbed my arm, dragging me towards the elevator. Her finger was on her ear as she tried to hear the person on the other side.

"Liz! Liz tell me you're still in – okay, I think we have a lead on who to run for missing persons records. Stop searching the big leagues. Search Roseville's Orthod – yes, Roseville!"

I followed her into the elevator, Zach coming up beside us. He still looked upset but he was hanging onto our words, too. The doors closed, immediately muffling the noise of the party.

"Cam, do you have any idea who it could be?" Macey asked. I knew what she was asking. Roseville was tiny in comparison to most cities and towns of the world – but it was huge in terms of needling out one person. I closed my eyes, running the faces of everyone who had been at the diner that night. Josh, Dillon – some other guys. But they'd had to use a woman's body. How else could they make it look like Catherine?

Come on, think, Cammie, think. I knew that there were tons of girls who had gone to Roseville's public school. Girls who, by now, were well into college. They could be all over the world – except for one. One girl had never made it out of Roseville, Virginia. There was one girl whose pieces were lying in Catherine Goode's grave. But which one?

The answer came to me so fast, it nearly knocked me over.

"DeeDee," I whispered. Macey looked shocked but she didn't question it. After all, I'd known that gang better than everyone else here. But the happiness I'd felt at my breakthrough was quickly morphing into utter horror.

I had known that group of people. Josh, Dillon, and DeeDee were inseparable. If there was any girl who would've agreed to help them, it was DeeDee.

Because she was just like me. It wasn't a vicious girl who would've teamed up with them. It was a girl who would agree to go with her friends and do them a favor to save their ass; a girl who would tag along to keep an eye out for them; a girl who was sweet enough to do favors for anybody.

Dillon included.

Catherine included.

My knees were shaking as I got out of the elevator and followed Macey. Beside me, Zach took my hand, squeezing it tight. He didn't seem upset anymore. That was good. We – him and I – needed to get past the idea of Josh if we were going to go back and question him for information about that night. I wanted to tell Zach that he had nothing to worry about but I could wait until later. Right now, all that mattered to me was what would pop up on Liz's computer.

When we opened the door to the room, I expected there to be a flurry of movement on the other side. People panicking and running around, Liz typing away furiously at her laptop. But there was pin drop silence. The guards stood in the corners, keeping their positions in check. In the center of the room stood Jonas. He looked apologetic. Liz sat at the table, her lips pressed against her fingers as she stared at the screen. The moment she stood up, I knew. I _knew _that it had been Roseville's sweetest girl who had died in place of Catherine.

Once more I found myself asking why DeeDee was so _unhateable_. But the context was very, very different.

"Cam – " Liz whispered, and I was surprised to see tears in her eyes. Oh, Liz. She was the sweetest girl in Gallagher. I gave her a shaky smile. Macey walked around to see the screen and her hand dropped to her side. Her expression of confusion went blank and then to horror.

"It's not –"

"Wait, what?" I asked, stepping forward. "It's not, DeeDee?"

I dared to hope it as I lunged for the computer. I felt like the worst person on the planet, wishing for anyone else to have died in place of the bright girl who had grown on me.

"Cam, don't –" Macey started, but I'd already turned the screen to face me. There were biometric scans running on the side, with a table of information on the page. Name, DOB, Place of Birth, Address, Medical History, Family's history…all compiled into one file.

But the photo staring at me wasn't DeeDee's face.

It was Josh's.

* * *

I don't how long I ran for.

Perhaps days. Perhaps weeks. But wherever it was that I was running to, I could hear footsteps following me. A cold blast of air hit my face, shocking my system. My knees gave out under me as I collapsed on the hard tiles. My hands came up to my face, scrubbing and scratching the make up off. The heels on my feet were kicked away.

"Cam," came Bex's voice as she knelt beside me, pulling my hands away from my face. She sat beside me on the balcony floor – so I'd run to my own room – pulling me into her arms. My head rested on her heaving chest as I shook. My vision was blurring so fast, I realized, as another set of hands smoothed my hair. Macey's perfume saturated the air as she sat beside me too.

"Cam, I'm so sorry," cried Liz. She came into my line of sight, her tears smudging her own hint of eyeliner. In the sky, fireworks continued to burst, dazzling her face and making her look like a broken fairy. I could hear people on the streets: shouting and celebrating and welcoming the new year. How could they celebrate? How did they find it in themselves when the world had grown so, so cold?

"They're going to question his family," I mumbled. "And they're going to wonder why he decided to work for Catherine. They're going to tear his perfect life apart and examine every shred –"

"Cam –" whispered Macey.

"They're going to treat him like he was hostile. Like he was the enemy for working with her –"

"No, Cam, he was a civilian –"

"They're going to make him look like the bad guy. They're going to make him look like a bad person."

"No, they won't."

"He was just a boy. He was just a boy," I whispered, my voice cracking. Bex held me tighter, shushing me as she whispered in my ear.

"You'll be okay, Cam. You'll be okay."

"But he won't. He's dead. Josh is dead. Catherine is alive and Josh is – Josh is dead. "

The moment I said those words it made the entire prospect feel too real. I kicked and scrambled against all three of them as they held me down, refusing to let me go. I didn't fight for long because my chest was heaving and broken cries were saturating the air and Josh was _dead. _He'd been dead for over a year.

Then I started crying.

They never left me – my girls. They held on tight because they knew how much I'd loved him. They'd seen me fall head over heels and then seen me crash and burn as it fell around me. They'd seen me heal from it, too. And they'd seen me find love again. But they'd seen it all. So, they saw this too.

I cried until the night grew colder and the fireworks stopped and the parties died into steady thrums of excitement crawling across London. I cried for Josh. I cried for myself. I cried for everything that was wrong in the world; everything that had dared to snub out his life. And I cried for everything beautiful in the world that he'd never see again. I heard doors open and close and people walk around us and then leave again.

But they stayed. They always stayed. At some point the pain must've been too much for me to take because I passed out on that cold floor with their warmth keeping me alive.

When I woke up, I was alone. Or I felt like I was alone because how could I be with somebody and still hold so much pain inside myself? The sun had risen but not too high, which meant it was early. My hair was tangled from the party and the cold balcony air. I reached up and ripped out the fake streaks. My mouth felt dry. My eyes burned. Despite the fireplace crackling, I felt like I was freezing.

Josh was dead. Gone.

"Hey," came a soft whisper from beside me and I jumped. Zach was sitting on the bed, and from the looks of it, he'd stayed up all night. He scooted closer, brushing back a bit of my hair and pulling me into his arms.

I let myself steal some of his warmth, resting my head on his chest. But I was still shaking.

"Cameron," he said and I looked up to his face. It was the look of someone who'd lost everything. Like he'd lost me. I felt my fingers trace his jaw, running over the stubble, and he leaned into my touch.

"Cam. I am _so _sorry." And he meant it. I could see that he meant it. He'd never wanted this for me. He'd never wanted this for anybody. Because he was Zach and he wasn't like his mother who had taken everything from me. Josh. Myself. My Dad.

It seemed so cruel that just yesterday my mother had whispered to me similar words.

_He was my first love. I'll always love him, Cameron. I learnt so much from him, just like you learnt from Josh. We will grow up and move on but we will always, always have a place in our hearts for him._

"He's gone," I said, and I didn't know whom I was talking about.

"She killed him."

"We don't know that," Zach replied and I don't know if he was trying to make me feel worse by giving me unwanted hope.

"You saw the records."

"I know. I know but we won't know what happened until we go back to Roseville."

"But…he'll still be gone."

Zach's face contorted into pain. This was hurting him. He'd do anything for me but he couldn't bring Josh back. I swallowed dryly as I looked at my hands.

"I broke up with him to keep him out of all this. Somehow, he still got roped into it."

"It wasn't your fault, Cam. He – My mom would've picked anyone she thought she could. It wasn't your fault."

"But she did it to get to me –"

"Don't. Don't let her do this to you."

"Everyone's saying I shouldn't let her do these things to me. As if I control what she does to me. People die around her and I can't stop it. And we were _there. _We were there that night, and Josh would've been just a few feet away and we didn't know he was there. We didn't get to save him."

"We didn't know."

"I miss him," I sniffled, teardrops falling from my eyes. "I always thought one day I'd see him again and we'd both be past how messy everything was. I always thought – I miss him. I already miss him."

"You love him," Zach said and then I couldn't stop myself from hugging him again. He held me tightly, as if I was going to vanish from his embrace.

"I do. I'll always love him. I'm not in love with him – I don't think I ever was. I was just a child. He was just a child. We were kids. But I'll always love him."

"I know," Zach whispered, kissing the top of my head.

"How was he supposed to know she'd do this? He couldn't have known. Josh would've never done that –"

"I know, Cammie."

"And – a-and she would've convinced him to do it. She would've. She would've said something –"

"She'd have told him to come see you."

I pretended I didn't hear him.

"They'll make him look bad. He wasn't a bad person. He was a sweet boy. He wasn't –"

"I know."

"It's not fair," I said, and this time there was a sob attached to it. My lungs were bursting with physical pain; the lump in my throat felt like a shard of glass. The veins in my temple were throbbing.

"She lived. And he didn't. It's not fair."

"Josh loved you, Cammie. She used that love against him. She took the best thing in the world – loving you – and she used it against him. She's the bad person. Not him. We know that. He was never a bad person."

"She got a fake funeral. And he didn't even get a real one," I gasped, pulling away. My hands came to my face, clutching in horror. I was sure my nails were digging into my skin. Zach tried to reach for me but I shot off the bed.

"He – He wasn't on the missing persons lists. His family doesn't even know he's gone and – his sister. He's been gone for over a year and – oh god. And DeeDee. Oh god. He didn't even get a funeral."

Zach stood up, walking around the bed and taking my hands away from my face. Grabbing my wrists, he pulled me close, holding me tight again.

"Cammie - breathe. Just breathe."

"I can't."

"Then try."

I tried. I did. But then I couldn't hold it back. My knees gave out again and if not for Zach, I'd have been on the floor. But he held me up as I sobbed hard, my throat going raw. I screamed and I shouted and I kicked and I scratched. But he didn't let go of me. He just kept telling me to breathe. My entire system felt like it was shutting down and Zach seemed to be the only lifeline, in that moment.

I wanted to reach into my chest and take out the pain that was bubbling there. I'd felt this pain before. I'd felt worse pain before, when I'd lost my Dad. But in that moment, it felt excruciating. Zach lowered me gently to the ground without letting go of me, pulling me into his lap and rocking me back and forth.

"He wasn't a bad person, he wasn't a bad person."

That was all I could whisper as I cried again.

And this time – this time, I didn't really stop.


	6. six

**Hey guys. Thanks for the amazing, amazing reviews! I hope you all are liking where this is going. This chapter will be answering a lot of questions about what happened to Josh, but as a warning, it will also deal with the grief from the previous chapter.**

**So I figured I should post a warning for death and grief. **

**- Brooke xx**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Ally Carter. I don't own copyright to canon Gallagher Girls series material and only own creative and intellectual property.**

**Chapter Rating: T**

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Six**

**PROS AND CONS OF DRIVING BACK TO ROSEVILLE TO INTERROGATE YOUR DEAD EX-BOYFRIEND'S FAMILY**

**PRO:** Absolutely nothing.

**CON:** Absolutely everything.

Sleet rained down on us once more, but it was different from the cold of the UK. The wipers squeaked across the windshield as we drove through the roads of Virginia, back in the direction of Gallagher. Towards Roseville. There was fog on the window pane and I could hear people trying to get me to talk. But I wasn't complying. I wanted to curl up and sleep. But that's exactly what I'd done ever since New Years' night. I hadn't spoken a word since we left the hotel and packed our bags to return to the States. I hadn't said a word as my various passports were taken in and out of my hands. I'd sulked. I'd eaten. I'd slept. Then I'd repeated the cycle all over again. Every time I'd opened my eyes I'd hoped someone would laugh and tell me this was a joke. Some horrible person with a sick sense of humor would tell me this is a prank, just so I could beat them up. But beating up anybody wouldn't bring back an innocent person who'd had an entire life ahead of him.

Two nights ago, I'd have done anything to come back here and visit the place that changed me. The place that was my home. Now? Now I dreaded it. Bex reached for my shoulder from the backseat and I shrugged it off. She'd understand. She was the one girl who I could let my negative emotions loose on, and she'd never bat an eyelid. She didn't say anything this time either. I watched the civilian traffic of the small town stare at us. Who could blame them? It had been one day since January first, and there were multiple tinted cars pulling into the once quiet North Bellis Drive.

The serenity of the place had been broken by the harsh weather and the harsher news we all carried in our hearts. Women stood by their windows, their hands pressed to their mouths. Men stared at the cars with horror in their eyes. Kids walked around, confused. Some were crying - presumably people who had known Josh. The entire street was mourning. It was ironic that I'd once watched this street and thought to myself that I had nothing in common with these people. But this tied us together.

When we pulled up outside the Abrams' residence, there were already police cars around the driveway. I could see the neighbors staring as the uniformed men walked in and out of the perfect house. It had once stood for pies and curtain swatches and Suzie, the lucky cat. It had stood for happiness and carefree and the entire life I could've never dreamed of having. Had it really been almost five years since I'd stood here? When had we all grown up? When had our worlds started crumbling down?

Townsend pulled the car over, his hands twisted around the steering wheel. I could see that he didn't want me here. But today he wasn't my boss. He was my uncle. He was my friend. And he knew I needed to know this. If there was anyone here who would tell us anything, then they'd tell it to me. _I _was the ex-girlfriend.

But as soon as the doors unlocked, I shook my head. Panic saturated my body. Tears filled my eyes and I spoke the first words I'd spoken since entering the country again.

"I can't. I can't go in there. They don't know what I am – what I do. They thought I used to go to Gallagher –"

"You don't have to lie to them about school. You can tell them you joined us after you left. You can tell them you're training with us."

_Us_ meant FBI, today. This was what it meant to be a target of international terrorists. Working with every intelligence agency that we could work with. The official story was that Josh died in the fire that broke out at Gallagher over a year ago. But I couldn't tell them that he'd died to come see me. I couldn't tell them he'd died in place of a terrorist who set a spy school on fire.

This is what it meant to be caught up in our world. When you died in the middle of our messes, then your families never heard the whole truth, if they didn't have the clearance. I couldn't help but think of my own grandparents who never knew how my Dad died.

"Agent Morgan –" Townsend started and I interrupted him, suddenly.

"Solomon. Agent Solomon," I whispered. He looked surprised.

"I – I told Josh my last name was Solomon. I have to – we can't let them think that everything Josh and I had was a lie. They have to know that something in his life was pure and good."

But it wasn't, was it? It had been a lie too. And it had ended with lies and deception, as well. The idea of our disastrous relationship being the best thing in his short life was too painful to fathom. He hadn't even made it out of Roseville.

Townsend nodded and opened the door. I got out of the car, refusing to use an umbrella. The weather was harsh but I wasn't worried. My make up, my fancy hair, my fancy clothes – it had all been traded in for greys and simplicity. As if everything was suddenly simple now.

"Hey," Zach whispered from beside me, his own umbrella forgone. Behind him stood Bex. She wouldn't be coming in. More than one known Gallagher student in the FBI would be far too suspicious. I turned back to Zach who gave me an encouraging nod. I didn't hold his hand because I thought it would be a kick in the face to Josh's memory and his family. But his presence gave me strength to walk up to the house. There were cops and agents crawling all over the place, asking questions. But I found myself walking straight to the kitchen.

On the fridge were Joy's report cards, but it was obvious that her As had dropped to Bs. Her favorite tutor was gone. Beside her cards was one report card with Josh's name on it. It was from his sophomore year and among all the grades, there was one 'A' that was circled.

'_Thanks Cammie_' was written beside it and I noticed that it was an A in Chemistry. I staggered backwards, my hand coming up to muffle the cry that threatened to make itself known.

"Cammie?" came a sad voice from behind me. I turned around. I hadn't even noticed Mrs. Abrams sitting at the table. There was a mug of something in front of her but it looked like she'd ignored it. She looked like a ghost, her face all pale and splotchy. When she saw me, her face twisted into sobbing. Standing up and crossing the room, she threw her arms around me. I let her, hugging her back, as well. I had remembered her as the bright and happy woman who had hugged me at the dance. Now her devastated expression would forever remain imprinted in my head.

"He's gone. He's – gone," she cried. I nodded, my own tears welling in my eyes.

"He's just gone."

We stood there for a few seconds before she pulled away. She sniffled and took in my appearance, her eyes widening at the FBI badge clipped to my chest. She didn't even do the mental math to figure out if I was old enough to be in the field already. She simply smiled a watery smile. How? How could she find it in herself to?

"Josh would've been so happy. He would've been so proud."

Behind me, Zach was quiet. I was proud of _him, _for keeping a straight face through all of this. The pain in his eyes spoke volumes. He was hurting for me. He was hurting for this sweet mother whose pain could be blamed on _his _mother. He was hurting for himself because he didn't have a mother who would mourn him like this. I knew. I knew because I knew him just as much as he knew me.

There were harsh cries and screams from upstairs and Mrs. Abrams softly sobbed again.

"Joy. She's a mess. She can't believe he's gone. I don't think any of us can."

I could hear stomping upstairs, and I remembered how I'd reacted when I found out my Dad had gone MIA. A little girl whose world was torn apart. I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"I need some air," I blurted out and she blinked, a tear sliding down a cheek.

"I-I'm sorry, Mrs. Abrams. I am truly, very sorry," I whispered. "I'll be outside. I'm not the one – I'm not supposed to ask the questions."

The house was suffocating me. I never should've walked in here. It was too much. Mrs. Abrams seemed to understand because she hugged me again before I dashed for the back door.

"Cammie," a deep voice whispered and I almost stopped in my tracks. It was so like Josh, that voice. Maybe he was alive. Maybe this was a cruel joke. I turned, hoping to see a ghost of him, but it was only Mr. Abrams.

"Mr. Abrams – I –"

"You'll come to the funeral, won't you, Cammie?" he simply asked.

I didn't answer before I broke free of the kitchen. But I couldn't escape him. The sides of the house that my friends had scaled to bug the house; the bushes I'd hidden behind; the trashcans with the crazy dogs. It all screamed of a time gone by.

"Gallagher Girl," Zach said and I turned around. I didn't even care that it was disrespectful because he was the only one keeping me from going under. I hugged him tight and he kept his arms around me, the sleet falling over us, cold and deathly.

I didn't realize I was crying again. He held me close, saying nothing to comfort me. There was nothing he could say.

"Agent Solomon," Townsend said, from behind us. We turned around, watching him walk up the side of the house.

"Are you done already?" I asked.

"We have a lead. It turns out that whoever wanted Joshua's identity to remain hidden, made sure to plant a...replacement. The night of the fire, his parents found a note in his room which said he was leaving for his cousins' house for the summer, and that he would head to college directly."

College. He'd gotten into college. He'd gotten his ticket out. But he'd never had a chance to cash it in.

"Didn't they notice further lack of communication?" asked Zach. "His friends, his other family?"

Townsend shook his head.

"Someone set up an email account for him, keeping in frequent touch with everyone Joshua would've kept in touch with. It was an elaborate lie. But it's the work of someone who wanted their cover to remain deep. Well, at least until now."

I felt sick hearing those words. _At least, until now. _It made it sound like all this evidence and truth was coming out just when it was supposed to. Like we were still dancing to someone else's tune.

"What's that?" I asked, noticing the white sheet in his hand. He held out the zip lock bag for me to see. Inside it was a worn out piece of paper, folded and refolded many times. In all caps was the runaway note left with Josh's name at the bottom. It was perfect – the words were exactly what I could imagine him saying.

"We need to run handwriting matches but –" Zach started. "With all caps, it won't be easy."

"Cammie?" came a small voice from afar. We all turned to see DeeDee. She was holding up a pale yellow umbrella and I think it was the first time I hadn't seen her in pink. Her eyes were swollen and she was biting her lip as if she didn't want to cry.

"DeeDee," I whispered. "Are you on winter break?"

"No. I never left Roseville. I deferred to help Mr. and Mrs. Abrams with their shop."

She really was the sweetest girl in Roseville, Virginia. Who else would do that for her runaway boyfriend's parents? I had been right to think DeeDee hadn't made it out of Roseville. I was glad she was alive. But it was overshadowed by the fact that Josh wasn't.

"Is that the runaway note he left?" DeeDee asked, walking up to me and snatching it from my hands.

"Miss –" Townsend started. "That's evidence which we need to scan –"

"You don't need to scan it," DeeDee said. I felt a chill run down my spine. I'd never seen her face look so – troubled and angry. I'd never heard her voice sound so dangerous. She sounded like something inside her had been permanently damaged.

"Do you know who wrote this, DeeDee?" asked Zach. She looked up, recognizing him from the exchange program.

"Yeah, I'd recognize that crappy handwriting anywhere. Dillon wrote that."

* * *

I'd once wished desperately for Dillon to pick a fight with me, just so I could knock him down a peg or two. Right now, that's all I could think of. My shoes smacked the puddles on the concrete as I ran away from the Abrams' home. My hands were shaking as I headed down to the Jones' residence, knowing it was a few houses down from Josh's. Water dripped down into my eyes but I didn't care. Dillon sat on his porch, looking like he was lost. I took off the FBI badge as I stormed up the steps, not even stopping to give any greeting. He noticed me, immediately standing up.

I could tell. I could tell he had some "witty", sexist remark to make.

"Well, well, if it isn't Miss –"

I didn't really know what made me do it. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best move to make. I mean, I was on duty (sort of). But I couldn't help it. All I could picture was Josh in that fire, and Dillon abandoning him and erasing the trail that led to him. Before the words were fully out of his mouth, I'd reached out and slapped him across the face. My palm stung. The whip like sound it made was louder than the storm brewing above us.

Dillon spat out blood from the corner of his mouth. I stared at him, begging him to fight back.

"Bitch," he said, already charging at me. He slammed me against the porch pillar and I was quick to throw him back. That was the problem with these quarterbacks who thought they could bully people around with their size. The huger they were, the harder they fell. Anger and hurt fueled my actions more than training. My hands went around his throat, pinning him to the floor. He threw me off, rolling us over. But he didn't get very far. Townsend yanked him off, pinning his hands behind his back.

"What the hell, man?" he struggled as handcuffs were slapped across his wrists. "_She _attacked me!"

"Agent Solomon!" Townsend reprimanded as I stood up. His eyes said he was thoroughly disappointed in me, and I could tell. Family or not, this would go in my record. I found myself acting violently, regardless. I made a move to go back onto Dillon, but Bex and Zach held me back.

"Cam, that's enough," Zach whispered. There was something deadly in his tone that made me think he wanted Dillon to get beaten to a pulp. He was just stopping this from getting worse for me.

"_Agent Solomon, _ha!" Dillon snickered. "What a joke. You know you can't run around and attack innocent civilians."

"I'm on probation already, and don't think I won't risk indefinite suspension to hand your ass back to you," I spat. "You on the other hand just assaulted someone on duty. And you're not so innocent yourself, are you? They're taking you in for lying about Josh."

Dillon looked stunned for a second before he noticed DeeDee hovering on the last porch step. She was scowling at him, her umbrella clutched tightly in her hands. For one second, I thought she was going to hit him on the head with it. I could tell he wanted to say something to her, and I was ready to come to her defense. But she just walked up to him and landed in a slap of her own. Dillon looked further stunned.

"I'm not an agent of any kind. Don't think_ I_ won't hesitate to hand your ass to you." Her voice was shaking and it was obvious she could never take Dillon in a fight. I stepped in front of her so that Dillon wouldn't see the way she was shaking hard. But I felt pride sneak up inside me as I watched her turn on her heel and walk off. I turned back to Dillon, who was struggling.

"Mr. Jones," Townsend stressed. "You're already in trouble for obstruction of justice in a possible homicide, not to mention possible accessory. You've also just assaulted an agent. Do you really want to add resisting arrest to the list?"

Dillon stopped fighting as Townsend continued to recite him his rights. I don't know if it was because of Townsend's tone or the fact that too many big, dangerous sounding words had been spoken to him.

However, my cockiness was short lived. As it turned out, I still wasn't allowed to be present for his interrogation, thanks to my mini attempt at taking justice into my own hands. So, instead, I paced my mom's office at Gallagher. The halls were mostly empty, save for a handful of people who'd decided to stay for winter break. The quiet was deafening as I sat on her couch, my arms crossed.

"Are you okay?" Zach asked me, sitting down beside me. He offered me a cup of tea but the idea of tea just reminded me of Josh and I turned it away.

"No. But smacking him around felt better than it should have."

Bex cursed Dillon in ways that would've made Madame Dabney –

"Miss Baxter! That is _not _the kind of language we teach our young ladies!" said Madame Dabney as she walked into the office. Well, that's what it would've made her say.

"And Miss Morgan! Assault, really!" she shook her head.

"He had it coming," Bex and I said at the same time. Before Madame Dabney could refute that, my mom and Townsend walked into the office. I shot up.

"What did he say? What did you find out? Did he say who convinced them to do it?"

"See for yourself," my mom whispered, inserting a drive into the USB port of her television. She clicked a button and Dillon's interrogation tape played before our eyes.

"Look, I _said –_" said Dillon and the officer in front of him held up a hand.

"Careful, Mr. Jones. We told you. Whatever you say can be used against you. Just tell us the truth and we can try and get you immunity. If you tell us who made you do this then we can help you and your friends."

"My only friend, who knows the truth, is dead because of that bitch."

I swallowed thickly and Zach squeezed my hand. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault. I had to keep saying that until I believed it.

"Could you be more specific?"

"That redhead creep!" Dillon said and everyone in the room sucked in a breath. Redhead creep. But that was impossible. Had Catherine planned her escape so far in advance, that she'd met them _before _she'd been locked away in our school? No. It was impossible. There was no way she'd have known from all that time ago. No way it would've been planned in adva - then I remembered. It was a mole who brought them in.

"Mr. Jones, I think you should start from the start –"

"Which start? The start where Josh started sleeping around with Blondie or –"

I clenched my teeth, willing myself to not smash the television into pieces as more lies about me spewed from his mouth. My fingers balled into fists as I took a step forward. My mom pushed me back, eyeing me carefully.

"I mean when things went downhill."

Dillon took a deep breath.

"The night of the fire was the night after our graduation. We were all partying at the diner because – well, you know. School was finally done with! And a couple of kids were joking about sneaking into Gallagher and messing around with the rich girls. Harmless pranks and stuff. Probably TP a side of the mansion."

"Was this something you'd done previously?"

"No. We'd talked about it but we never actually did it. We've never been inside that place. Anyway, Josh and I were chilling around and this chick shows up. She's got red hair and she looks fine as hell. And apparently, she's overheard us bitching about Gallagher. She tells us she used to go there until they kicked her out for using a cellphone or some crap like that. We laughed, shared a couple of drinks. I mean, anyone who hates Gallagher and looks like that is definitely on my side."

Dillon chuckled. The interrogator didn't look amused. Dillon cleared his throat and continued.

"Then this girl starts freaking out because it's some kind of senior tradition at Gallagher to haze the juniors a week before school ends. And she's worried about her kid sister who goes there. We told her that if she got kicked out for using her cell then it couldn't be that bad. But she insisted that it was bad enough. She asked us if knew anyone there who we could get help from, because apparently this shit took place off campus. So, I told her we knew Cammie, who was a senior."

"How did you know Miss Cameron?"

"I _told _you she was messing around –"

"Was she in any relationship at that point with Joshua Abrams?"

"No. He dumped her sorry ass."

"Yeah right," Bex scoffed under her breath. But I was hanging onto every word.

"Continue, Mr. Jones."

"Josh was all for stopping the hazing crap because, apparently, he'd known Cammie got hazed once. I don't know how he knew that but... whatever. I'm pretty sure he just lied as an excuse to go see her. So, this chick told us that she'd meet us outside the gates but that she could only get one of us in. So, Josh volunteered. He said if he asked Cam really nicely, then she'd agree to put an end to it. But if I tried then she'd punch me or something. Clearly. So we met her outside the gates and she told us she'd drive him in and then it would be all cool. Getting out wouldn't be a problem."

At this point Dillon's voice and story had lost all its steam. His voice lowered and his eyes stared off into space. I couldn't tell if he was actually sorry about Josh dying or not, but I didn't feel even a little sorry for him.

"Then?"

"Josh told me to head back to town and that he'd meet me at DeeDee's later. But I knew he was going to be messed up after seeing Cam. So, I waited outside. And I waited and waited and he never came out. Then the fire started. I started panicking, obviously, and tried to tell one of the guards that my friend was in there. But there was nobody there – probably trying to put the fire out."

"Why didn't you come to us, Mr. Jones?"

"I tried!" he snapped. "I was going to get into my car and drive straight for the PD. But then the redhead was waiting by my car. Before I could even ask her how the hell she got out, she told me that if anyone found out what we'd done we could go to jail for breaking and entering. I told her I wasn't scared of her but she said she could send us in for sexual harassment or some crap because she had us on tape joking about mooning – which we never did! I told you, we'd never been to that place. She told me if I went to jail then I'd lose my football scholarship and shit. I was freaking out!"

"What did she say?"

"Nothing. She just said she'd keep in touch and she vanished. When I went home that night I knew Josh hadn't made it out. Then I received an email from an anonymous address telling me to sneak into his room and leave the runaway note. So, I did it. I mean, I've known him my whole life. I know how he talks. I thought I was done then, because nothing happened all summer. I thought I'd go to college and it would all be behind me."

"But it wasn't, was it, Mr. Jones?"

"No. Apparently I had to keep pretending to be Josh on the internet. Emails, chats and all that crap. I had to make sure everyone in his family believed he was safe."

"What about his college admittance?"

"I had to email them telling he was declining their offer, so they wouldn't contact his parents. Look, I'm sorry okay but I was scared – hey! Where are you going?"

"Thank you for your help."

"You'd said you'd get me immunity! You said –"

"We'll see what we can do."

Townsend paused the tape and I sat down heavily on the chair across from my mother's table.

"The mole," I whispered. "She was the redhead. The agent who got Josh in and then left without getting her hands dirty."

Nobody said anything.

"Did he give a name?"

"She called herself _Cathy, _according to Dillon and I'm assuming it's a nickname for Catherine since she didn't want to use her own," Townsend said.

"What about sketch artists?"

"They're on it but I doubt it'll be much help. Dillon was drunk that night, as were most of the kids in that diner. Nobody can remember her face well enough."

Like a chameleon. Nothing worth remembering. Nothing worth recalling.

"Someone has to!" I snapped, and once more I realized my voice was raised.

"Nobody knew who she was, Cam," my mom said. "We checked our own records, our own tapes. No redhead was seen leaving or entering the Academy that night."

"Someone knows. Someone knows," I whispered desperately, turning to look at Zach. But he was staring off into the distance, with his arms crossed. For some reason, I found myself unable to reach out for him.

* * *

It didn't rain the next day. There was not a cloud in sight. The sunlight beamed across the lawns as I drove out of the school again, this time dressed completely in black. I wasn't allowed to go alone but I could tell nobody really wanted to go for the funeral. But I had to. I had to say my goodbyes. It was cruel how happy the day looked when it was so sad.

Black was not a color made for DeeDee, I decided as I got out of the car and walked into the cemetery. The girl in question walked ahead of me, her head bowed low. Everyone was present there - or it felt like that, anyway. It looked like the entire town of Roseville had come together to mourn Josh.

I knew I should've but I couldn't listen to a single word that the priest was saying. Because while the casket before me was new, the remains inside it had already been buried once. Somewhere in this graveyard there was a freshly dug up grave with my enemy's name on it. Beside me stood DeeDee, her hands shaking hard. I could hear her sobbing and I tried not to focus on it. I tried to focus on counting the blades of grass at my feet. I tried to count prime number squares in my head. I even tried to remember how many shades of nail polish Carrie kept hidden around our Henle Hall apartment (forty two, not counting repetitions). But all I could think of was the fire and the bomb and the fact that there was next to nothing left of Josh.

"Joshua Adamson Abrams was -" said someone - I didn't even know who - but I felt tears fall down my cheeks. I gasped, bringing a hand up to muffle my cries and DeeDee's arm reached out to hold my free hand. I squeezed it hard. If I hurt her, she didn't show it. I doubted that my strength was what was hurting her. I bit my lip, hard, to keep my cries muffled as my entire body shuddered.

"Cammie," DeeDee whispered, snapping me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see that people were waiting for me and I realized it was my turn to say something. I stumbled forward to the coffin, pressing my hand to the fresh bouquet of roses on top of it. I added my own red rose to the pile and kissed the smooth wood.

"Hey, Josh?" I whispered, fighting back tears. "Tell Suzie she's a lucky cat."

I was trembling as I walked back, my back hunched over. I couldn't bear to look at them lower the casket. I knew it was the worst thing for me to have my back turned, but I couldn't. When people started to leave, I caught up to DeeDee who was walking towards her car.

"Hey," I said and she turned around, wiping her nose. "DeeDee."

"Hi, Cam. Are you going to their house?"

"No, no, I won't be there. I just – I wanted to –"

"I know," she said, reaching out to squeeze my hand, again. "I get it."

"Josh was big on free will, you know?" I said. "I mean…I'm sure you heard the speech about the shop."

"More times than I can count," she chuckled, but her eyes looked like she was trying hard not to cry again.

"He wouldn't have wanted you to stay back here for him. He'd want you to go out and be happy, DeeDee."

Her smile faltered before she shook her head.

"I'm helping Mr. and Mrs. Abrams. They're nice to me. The pay is decent. And I get to stay close to home. There's nothing more I could ask for, Cam."

"But there's a whole world out there."

She smiled again.

"Then you should go see it. We should both be happy in our own worlds. _That's _what Josh would've wanted."

Then she turned around and walked off. I would've followed her but something else caught my eye in the distance. Zach stood leaning against the car. He hadn't worn funeral clothes, since he didn't plan on staying with me through it. He'd chosen to wait for me. Instead, he looked shabby in jeans and a loose hoodie. His hair was a mess and he hadn't shaved in two days. I stopped and stared at him. Ever since that night on the rooftop, I felt like I wasn't the only one who'd lost a little something. He'd been nothing but supportive, but I was a spy for a reason. I saw things when people thought I wasn't looking. He looked more than just tired or worried. He looked...demented.

"Hey, Gallagher Girl," he said as I walked up to him. His eyes didn't shine, and he wasn't smiling as he said it.

"Hey, Blackthorne Boy," I replied, leaning against the car next to him. "Are you okay?"

"I should be asking you that. You don't look okay."

"Neither do you," I whispered, holding his hand. "Zach –"

"We should head back." He turned to open the car door, but I reached out and stopped him.

"No, wait. Zach, I want you to know that this isn't easy for me. Josh was important to me. But I wasn't in love with him. Just because I'm devastated doesn't mean I haven't stopped loving you. I still love you," I said, putting my hands on his chest. He frowned for a second before shaking his head.

"That's what you think's bothering me? I know that, Cam. I know you're going through a hard time. I'm not jealous or anything."

"You're not? Because that stuff Dillon said wasn't true. I didn't sleep -"

"No, I know. I'm angry, and sad, and worried but I'm not jealous. I don't want this for you. I love you. I never wanted this to happen to you and it did."

"Then why won't you talk to me?"

He shrugged, shaking his head again.

"You're not going to leave me too, are you?" I said. My voice sounded scared, mirroring what I felt inside. I was broken inside over losing Josh. But if I lost Zach – I'd forget how to live. I couldn't lose him. My imagination attacked me with images of Zach dying; of Zach's body being lowered into the ground. The idea of it alone was more painful than all of this combined. And all of this hurt an awful lot. If that was Zach's funeral I'd just attended –

Tears welled in my eyes just imagining it and he pulled me close. His hands went around me, hugging me to him as I cried into his shoulder. My fingers dug into the fleece of the hoodie, twisting it tight and holding him close to me. I refused to let go even when he tried to pull away, desperate to never let him get separated from me. I felt like if I turned my back on anybody I loved, they'd vanish when I turned back around.

"Hey -" he whispered and I cried harder, pressing my face into his neck.

"Cammie..." he said, prying my hands free and holding my shoulders.

"I won't leave you. Ever."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Then we can go." He kissed the top of my head and chuckled. But as he got into the car, I noticed he wasn't smiling even a little bit.

The drive back was silent and when we crossed the gates of Gallagher I knew I'd be saying goodbye soon. I had to get back to Georgetown for spring semester. As mundane as it sounded, I had to forego all the turmoil and pain Cammie was going through and put on the Lauren hat again. These past few weeks had felt like another lifetime and it was time to put an end to it. Zach and I were both quiet as we walked through the front gates. I wanted to reach out for his hand but I heard footsteps. There was a very bright and happy voice approaching us from the hallway and we both stopped to listen.

"And I'm so, so happy here. I know it's supposed to be safe and after everything that happened... but it's amazing here, D! I'm really learning to be something and not just – CAMMIE!" a voice squealed as the girl rounded the corner. I recognized Amy right away – or Princess Amirah as her real name was. I wasn't surprised to know that she'd stayed here for winter. After the Circle had failed to assassinate her, she'd needed to go on lockdown.

But I couldn't bring myself to show the same enthusiasm because my eyes were locked on the person who stood behind Amy – a girl with the same eyes as the Princess, and the same blood running through her veins.

"Lauren?" she gasped, and then turned to look at Zach. "Ivan? What's going on?"

"Dayna…" I managed to mumble, my stomach dropping to my feet.

* * *

There was silence once more in my mother's office, where we all sat. A whistle was blowing in the background where water boiled for tea and Madame Dabney shuffled around. With the tinkering of china, I knew that she was just trying to overcome the silence in the room. She was one of the most refined people I knew and even she was making an awful lot of noise.

I think it was obvious that Dayna was beyond confused. It took both my mom and Townsend to explain to her how they'd needed to assign protection details to everyone in Amirah's family. How I had volunteered, wanting desperately to do something for Amirah, other than watch her stay in Gallagher. Because while she loved her school, to the others it was only a fortress. They explained how I'd accepted the assignment to protect the Princess' cousin, Daaniya alias Dayna, more than ready to become Lauren and go to Georgetown University. To become one of the many undercover agents protecting the royal bloodline of Caspia. Ready to stop something which could lead to a world war.

After an entire hour of explaining our covers to her, the first thing she asked, turning to Zach, was: "So you're not really Russian?"

"No, I'm afraid not," he said, speaking in his own American accent. His face look troubled and his hand kept fiddling with his hoodie strings and then his phone. I don't think I'd ever seen him this nervous before. I sent him a look which he waved off by shaking his head.

"And your name is Zach?" Dayna asked and he nodded, turning his attention back to her. We kept his last name to ourselves, for now, fearing that Dayna would probably lose her mind completely if she found out he was a Circle member descendent. There was only so much we could spring on her at once. She'd obviously known she was under watch, but I guess when you find out that a majority of your friend circle are just your bodyguards, then it can be a shocker. She'd befriended us and told us things about herself (minus her real name), assuming we were one of the few people who'd like her without knowing the entire story. She hadn't known we all had elaborate folders which we'd memorized before even officially meeting her.

"And you're the Cammie Morgan that Amy keeps talking about," she said, turning to me.

"So, you're not really my friend or my roommate. None of you are," she said, looking at both Zach, and Grant who'd been called in.

"Just because my name isn't Lauren doesn't mean I'm not your friend, Dayna," I said.

"But you're still there to protect me. To keep me safe," she said, looking down. Once more, she wasn't told that Zach and Grant were assigned to me. That was need to know.

"Miss Daaniya - " Townsend started but she shook her head.

"My name is Dayna. And I don't see why these people want anything to do with me. I'm not even the Princess. I'm Amy's _cousin. _I don't even have enough royal blood for it to really count - not as a monarch, anyway."

"Dayna," I said, reaching for her hand. After a moment's thought, she took it.

"You _are_ important," I continued. "You're a member of the royal family. One of the few left. You lost your uncle, and almost lost your cousin, to a bunch of sick terrorists. These people have taken a hit and they're more dangerous now than ever when they're wounded."

"Because they'll get sloppy?"

"Because they don't care who they'll hurt in the process."

She sat silently, looking down at her lap. Then she took a deep breath and looked at me again.

"Thank you."

"For what?" I asked, stunned.

"You took a bullet for her. You took more than one bullet for her. If there's anybody I trust with my life, it's you. I don't care if I have to pretend to not know. You can't leave me alone."

"I'm off the case, Dayna," I reminded her, swallowing thickly. Her bright eyes were too much like Amy's. Too innocent, too childlike. When she begged, I felt my heart break.

"I'll still be with you at college. But I can't live with you anymore."

"Why not?" she demanded. "If you're being replaced anyway, then why does it matter where you live?"

"Because, Ms. Lawson," my mother said, "you need a working agent with you in your residence hall. And we can't move your other roommates because replacing someone who already knows is far less messy."

"You're afraid of drawing attention! You can give us another roommate. We have a free single room in our apartment – they're made for up to five people at Henle. Just please don't make Laur – Cammie leave. Please."

"It'll be a lot easier than coming up with a story for Cammie's departure," Grant spoke up. I nodded along with him, turning to Zach to plead my case, as well. But he wasn't saying a single word. I looked away.

"We'll see what we can do," my mother said, sharing a glance with Townsend. I knew that look. It was the defeated look of someone who'd grown up around me. The look of someone who was willing to do anything to not back me into a corner and force me to do something stupid. I'd have been angry for the lack of trust which everyone seemed to have; but then I remembered that I'd given them all reason to believe I was a ticking bomb.

I'm sure if I was just Lauren and Daaniya was just Dayna, we'd be squealing at the prospect of not being separated. But when I turned to look at her, she had a sad, faraway look in her eyes. It spoke more than any of the extensive conversations which had just taken place.

"Nothing's going to be the same now, is it?" she asked me.

I turned to look at Zach, who was staring at me. His dark eyes weren't shining. They were vacant.

"No, Dayna. I'm afraid not."


	7. seven

**I am forever surprised by how many people like this and have asked me to keep going! I'm glad you guys liked the plot tie ups and I _am _sorry for killing Josh. I've always had a soft spot for him, even though I don't ship him and Cammie. I also want you guys to know that if it weren't for you then I'd have given up a long time ago! You're the best encouragement out there!**

**Also, I know this a concern with many people but Zach is obviously going through a rough time. I won't lie, it'll get worse before it gets better, just like a fever. And you all will probably rage at me for it. But don't worry. Our Zach and Cammie are too strong together to not rough another storm and come out victorious. I can't promise it'll get better right away but I can promise this won't last long! As for _why _he's going through a rough time..well..I guess you'll just have to see what plot twists I've got in mind for this story ;) I just hope you guys like them!**

**Thank you for your love and support, and happy reading! As always, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**- Brooke xx**

**P.S: The James Bond film I mention in this one is totally made up :P**

**Chapter Rating: T**

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Seven**

"Welcome, to the humble abode of the _oh _so lovely Lauren Daniels, and your next roomie," Craig's voice carried through the doorway. I groaned, looking up at Dayna. She was sitting cross legged on the empty canvas of a mattress, eating popcorn. Her eyebrows were raised in a bored expression but her eyes looked nervous. I could tell this wasn't what she had in mind when Townsend had told us we could stay together. I still had to move out of _our _room and into the free single room. It made sense, since the on-duty agent should be the one who rooms with Dayna. But she'd still been nerve wracked. I reached out and quickly squeezed her shoulder.

"Lauren.." she whispered.

"It's go time, Dayna."

I didn't wait for her to say anything further. While nobody was really surprised at how close Dayna and I were (that _had _been our cover), she'd been spending a lot more time hovering around me. I found that ironic since being on everyone's watch list was one of the things she said she hated about attending college. But ever since the events of Roseville, she'd found it a lot easier to relax whenever I was in the room. Or Zach, or Grant, for that matter. I brushed off the dust from my knees, making a mental note to vacuum before I went to bed. Coughing dramatically, I tucked back a lock of my freshly touched up chestnut hair. Then I walked out into the hall, eyeing the newcomer who would be taking my old spot.

"Aha, speak of the angel and the angel shall arrive," Craig said. "Lauren, meet Elaine. Elaine, meet -"

"Lauren Daniels. Yes, I got that," the girl laughed. It was hard to see another under cover agent acting so nonchalantly. Is that what we all looked like? Ghosts and empty shells, painted bright and new before being shipped off to a new location? Each of us blending into our new environments as if we'd been part of them our entire lives. "Elaine" looked at me, giving me a short smirk of a smile. Oh, so they'd given her _that _personality card. Her hair was cropped in a pixie cut, which was ranging from various shades of platinum blonde to pale pink. It contrasted beautifully with her dark skin, making her look like a fairy queen, I noted, as I took her outstretched hand.

"Does he always barge into people's suites like this? Should I be worried?" she joked. I laughed, acting along, before shrugging.

"Craig and personal space don't really mix. He spends more time here than in his own apartment. We should charge rent," I said, before subtly shaking my head. _All clear, _my mind screamed. _Got it, _Elaine's eyes replied.

"Don't be _mean, _Laurie," Craig scoffed, taking his usual place on the couch.

"Maybe _you _should be charging people for campus tours," Dayna walked in, waving at Elaine. Craig pouted and Dayna threw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounced off his forehead.

"I'm wounded. You think I do this for the money and fame? I do this from the goodness of my heart -"

"What heart?" Grant said, walking into the room. I'd spent so much time around him in London, that his Texan accent startled me once more. But I kept a straight face. Well, I didn't react to Grant. I still laughed at Craig's antics. He threw me a wink which had my insides clenching with discomfort. It's not like he was being creepy - no, Craig was one of the few guys in the whole of Henle Hall who wasn't a jerk about living in co-ed dorms. But his lovable, friendly behavior was a constant reminder that he didn't think of me just as a friend. Sure, he acted the same way with the rest of my roommates, but the knowledge of how he felt had changed everything.

"So..." Craig said, rubbing his palms together as if he was coming up with a malicious plan. Elaine raised her eyebrows at him and then proceeded to wheel her suitcase in the direction of Dayna's room. I followed her, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in the living room. It had been an uneasy feeling ever since London had happened. As a spy, my job was to always look over my shoulder. But when you were actually a target, it made things a lot worse. I was constantly feeling like I was being watched, and not just by my bodyguards. I felt like a devil was sitting on my shoulder, whispering threats in my ear whenever I managed to find some peace.

"Lauren, do you want to help me clear up some space for myself?" Elaine asked, eyeing some of my things which were still littered around the room. I could hear Craig making plans for a movie with Dayna and Grant. I closed the door and nodded. Suddenly, Elaine wasn't all cheeky smirks and bright attitude anymore. Her expression fell to one of somebody who meant business.

"I'm sorry," she whispered so quietly that even someone in the room wouldn't have heard it.

"I know this isn't easy for you. I know how frustrating it can be to be a sitting duck."

_How would you know?,_ I wanted to snap. But she had that quality about her that made her infuriatingly likable. She unpacked her things, decorating the room like any college student would. I cleared up my things, occasionally passing her "music" discs and "old assignment folders". Of course, that's not what they were. I was passing on the reigns along with all the information and confidential papers. She took them and shuffled through them, pretending to look uninterested. But I could see her eyes rapidly scan everything and commit it to memory. When she was done, she moved to the paper shredder in the corner of the room (honestly, Dayna's nervous habit of organization and clearing could get a bit much, sometimes) and got rid of everything.

"Look after her," I mouthed. Elaine smiled, sadly. That's another thing I guess the movies don't show you. It's always the exciting bits like explosions and gunfire (which are not at _all _exciting, let me tell you). They never showed how the side characters or collateral damage were real people. Real people who died when we messed up our jobs. People we lost and deaths we had to live with because the next assignment was already on the way. It wasn't always adrenaline and rushes. It was always, always life and death.

"I will," she replied. "You look after yourself."

"Ladies!" Craig's voice boomed as he did a musical knock on the door. Like I said - he wasn't a jerk about being in a co-ed dorm. I opened it and raised my eyebrows, wiping off my sad expression with one of casual amusement.

"And what can _we _do for you?" I asked.

"Follow me, my minions, as we go watch the movie marathon of James Bond," he grinned. He was talking about the movie marathon which the nearby movie theatre had planned, screening James Bond films all month until the new one came out next month (the very same one Bex had used in her mail). Today's was supposed to be the one which came out last year. Craig then proceeded to fold his hands as if he was holding a gun and started humming a mysterious tune under his breath. I didn't point out that real agents didn't look like that, or that the tune he was humming was actually from Mission Impossible. Dayna looked a little put off. I didn't blame her. I'd seen the trailers of the movie. It was set in the Middle East and involved a fictional royal family. As if that didn't hit close enough to home. But she wanted to get out of the dorms more than she wanted to sit through the movie - and, well, she looked like she didn't mind it _so _much. It might be a bit comical to see what details they got different.

"Where's Ivan?" asked Dayna and I nodded. Yes, where was Zach? I was pretty sure that if I was going to the movies, then him and Grant weren't going to let me go on my own.

"Probably avoiding Alex drooling all over him," Craig snickered. My smile faltered, which he noticed, because he winced and mouthed 'sorry'. I guess Alex finding him cute was well known within our friend circle, as was the fact that "Ivan" and "Lauren" were "starting to like each other."

"He's in the library. I don't think he's going to go for the movie," Grant offered.

I looked at him, where he was standing behind Craig. He subtly shook his head at me and my heart dropped.

"Um..." I turned to Elaine, who was eyeing us. She got the hint, nodding and smiling widely at Craig.

"I'm all in." Of course, she was. She had to be if Dayna was going. Dayna looked between Grant and I.

"Won't you come, Lauren?" she asked, doing a decent job of sounding like she wasn't pleading. I shrugged.

"Nah, I watched it during winter break. I have tons of stuff to do. You guys go ahead," I lied, not trying to show Grant how disappointed I was. But I'd promised to be on my best behavior. I didn't exactly have a choice.

"Killjoy," Craig coughed dramatically. "You know this is _our_ movie, Lauren Daniels. The guy's _name _is Daniel Craig, for pete's sake," he laughed before dragging Elaine and Dayna away. I walked up to Grant, waiting for the the other three to leave the apartment. The moment it was just the two of us, I turned to him.

"Why can't I go to a movie? I'm not going to be a prisoner!" I said.

But he was smiling comically.

"Oh no, _Lauren. _I'm not building you a fortress. I've been made in charge of giving you this," he said, waving a brochure in my direction. I snatched it, reading the print. A guide to the Smithsonian daily tours. I'd seen enough of these after living in D.C for over a year.

I flipped the brochure, opening it to the dog eared page. I felt my paranoia and irritation evaporate as soon as I saw the display of the ruby red slippers from The Wizard of Oz.

I grinned.

* * *

Despite the sunshine beating down on the streets of D.C, there was an undeniable chill in the air which made goosebumps rise up and down my arms. Now, you'd think : W_hy is she complaining? She's slept in a cave in freaking Alaska! _And yeah, I have. But just because the cold isn't the worst chill I've felt...doesn't mean it isn't _cold. _The hair on my arms brushed uncomfortably against the lining of my jacket. Tourists milled around me despite the winter air. But I had eyes only for one person. I saw his hair before I saw him. Stark black, blending in with the low saturation tones of the season. He was leaning against a tree, his hands in his jacket pocket, looking far off into the distance. Of course, he heard me approaching long before I actually approached him. So, I wasn't surprised when he held out his hand before he even looked up to see me.

"Hello, Ivan," I said, still keeping us under cover. After all, the middle of the Smithsonian didn't mean we weren't being tailed. That was a lesson _he'd _taught me.

"_Privet , lyubov' moya_," he replied. I pulled a face of utter confusion and amusement, as any adoring, non-Russian speaking date would. Inside, I was feeling a little lighter. Okay, a _lot _lighter. It's not everyday that Zach said, _Hello, my love. _We rarely used such terms of affection (other than Gallagher Girl and Blackthorne Boy, I guess). Heck, we rarely even reminded each other that we loved each other. We didn't have to say it. We just knew. But, it was a pleasant surprise, one that I was rolling with.

He put his arm around me and started walking, but it was a lazy stroll. I put my arm around his waist, snuggling closer to his side. This was better than any James Bond movie could be. I'd rather rely on a romantic-comedy style lie for an escape, than one that hit too close to home. Zach pressed a kiss to the top of my head and I leaned closer. Two weeks it had been since Josh's funeral. Two weeks of guarded intimacy. I was sure that he was just trying to give me some space so I could pull myself together. And I had. I'd pulled myself together a lot faster than I'd expected to. Maybe it was because we were taught how to handle death our whole lives. Maybe because I could tell myself I'd been through worse and made it out okay. Maybe because I had worse to worry about: Catherine, Dayna, my own safety. And Zach.

The thing with being in a relationship with someone like him was that you got used to secrets after a while. I kept things from him because I wasn't allowed to disclose details. He kept things from me because he wasn't allowed either. It wasn't easy. Zach often said I was too curious for my own good. That was true. But I was one of those people who didn't just think '_curiosity killed the cat'. _I was one of those people who thought '_but satisfaction brought it back'._ Him keeping secrets from me wasn't the hard part. The hard part was watching those secrets tear apart someone you love, inside out, and being unable to do anything about it. There were many days when he would struggle to get inside my head while I sat lost in my own thoughts. Then there were days - well, weeks - like this when I struggled to get inside his.

"Ivan," I said, and he looked down at me.

"Do you remember what I said that day?" I asked, and he raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely confused.

"Which day?" he asked.

"When I said that we had no secrets - not the ones we don't have to keep."   


Okay, so I wasn't the most subtle girlfriend.

Zach sighed, pulling me closer to him. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, but I didn't take my eyes off of him. The stubble was gone, and his green contacts were back, which just made it that much harder to read his expression. I stopped him in his tracks, turning to face him. He didn't remove his arms from around me, pulling me closer. I could tell this wasn't the place to have this conversation but if I could get under his skin now, then I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. I put my arms around him and hugged him. He seemed to lose whatever strength he had keeping him on guard. His arms tightened around me and he buried his face in my hair. I sighed in content, just holding him close. I may have imagined it, but I felt him shiver as a cold gust of wind blew around us.

"What's wrong?" I whispered in his ear, my chin resting on his shoulder. He inhaled deeply, curling closer to me. I'd never seen him do this in public before. Dramatic dipping and kissing in a crowded hallway? Sure. Emotional vulnerability? Never. It set me on edge, but I couldn't pull away. Not when I suddenly felt like I was a pillar to him. He'd been my pillar for a long, long time. Of course, I wasn't going to pull away.

"Cammie, Cammie, Cammie..." he whispered in return, keeping his lips close to my ear, his words barely a breath. He wasn't talking to me. It was as if he was reassuring _himself _that I was here."I wish...I wish I could...I wish I could make it all go away. But I can't."

"What do you mean?" I demanded, still keeping my voice low. As two teenagers walked by, I giggled, pretending that Zach was just whispering sweet nothings to me.

"Everything," he said. "Everything that's going on. It's not right. It's like she's...immortal, or something."

"But she's not," I sighed. "And we'll find a way to beat her again."

"I feel like we're walking into a trap. Like she's..."

"Setting a stage? Yeah. I know."

He pulled back suddenly, his hands closing around my biceps, yanking me forward until we were barely millimeters apart. There was nothing harsh behind the action. His grip was firm but not painful. But I could feel the tension return in his hands; I could see the tendons go taut in his neck. If I was a ticking bomb...he felt like the wound up strung, waiting to snap. There was a desperation in his eyes which made me bring my palms to his cheeks, running my fingers over the dark circles under his eyes. The turmoil was visible and it worried me. If I could see him falling apart from the outside, then how much was he falling apart from the inside?

"You asked me that day, if I was going to leave you..." he started and I felt my heart stop for a second.

"You're not -"

"And I promised you I wouldn't," he continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "And I intend to keep that promise. But you have to promise me something in return. You _have_ to promise, Lauren."

His words were shaking with how fast he was speaking, the Russian accent making it sound like a poetic blur.

"What?" I asked.

"Promise me that when all this is over, we'll make it out okay. You and I, we'll be okay at the end of it. Promise me that _you'll _make it out okay."

I felt my breath catch at the back of my throat. How could he ask me to make a promise which I had no confidence of keeping? Anything could happen in the world we lived. People died, agents didn't come home, spies lost their sense of self after everything they witnessed. I wanted to say the words. I tried to say the words. I told myself that even if I broke that promise, then I'd have no reason to worry because I wouldn't be around to face the repercussions of it. But he would. He would face the repercussions and I'd never be able to forgive myself for it.

"Say it," he said, and if you listened carefully, you could hear the pleading in his voice. It was a cruel reminder that while we were fully trained agents, for all intents and purposes, we were still kids. We were just college age kids. Our lives should've been worrying about the next big exam or which new place to go for a date. We were _kids. _We had always been kids. The only difference was that, our hearts and our innocence had died a long, long time ago.

I had to cling to whatever hope we had left before we lost that too.

"I promise," I whispered and then I closed the distance between us for the first time in two weeks. It wasn't deep. It wasn't fiery. It was in no way long. It was quick and soft and oh, it was everything. He sighed into the kiss, pulling me close for a second before pulling away again, his forehead resting against my temple. We stayed that way for nearly three minutes before he pulled back.

"Hey, Gallagher Girl?" he asked and for the first time in days, I thought I detected a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

"Yes?"

"So, I'm supposed to meet my teacher at the ruby slipper exhibit. I've only got twenty minutes, and if I'm late, he'll kill me."

I smiled, as he continued.

"But it's cold. It'll be dark soon. I'm by myself. And this _is _D.C. Do you think you could walk me there?"

"I'll think about it," I chuckled. "You better keep up. Don't forget I can walk fast."

Then I took his hand and started dragging him in the direction of the exhibit. This time, he chuckled too.

* * *

"Say it! I'm the man, just say it," Craig announced, bursting through the door. I tore my lips away from Zach's, squeaking and rolling off the couch, scrambling to re-button the shirt he'd just undone. Zach groaned, cursing in Russian as he sat up straight, patting down the hair I'd messed up. Craig's words died on his lips as he took in the scene in front of him. As I hastily did my buttons, I cringed at the flash of sadness which passed over his face. Then it was gone, in seconds, as he grinned at me.

"Oh, getting busy, I see," he teased, moving as the rest of the gang barreled past him and took over the living room. To be perfectly honest, despite the interruption, I wasn't complaining. I'd finally spent an entire evening with Zach without there being uncomfortable silence and sky high walls. I wasn't blind to the way he was behaving. He was still hiding something from me - something I wasn't allowed to know. He didn't say it but it was there. I just didn't bother asking because I knew the response would only make me feel worse. I'd rather be suspicious of him than watch him confirm that he couldn't tell me certain things which were making him spiral inside. This wasn't just about Josh or my grief anymore. This was something more. Something had happened to him between hearing DeeDee accuse Dillon and my attendance of Josh's funeral.

The only thing which kept bothering me was the way his eyes went vacant - especially now as he watched the room fill up. It was eerie enough with how dark his eyes naturally were, but the fake green made me want to curl up. He looked like a wind up toy which had run out of fuel. I'd probably have not seen this look if we'd spent the night together. I'd have been easily fooled into believing things were alright. This trigger was what I needed and I hated that there was one to begin with. I'd seen Zach fumble after missions before. Sometimes, we didn't always succeed in what we were told to do. Information got lost. Our allies were captured, or worse. Our assignments died. Assets vanished. Missions failed. I'd beaten myself up about it a lot and I'd seen him do it too. But this was something else. It was like...someone had let lose a piranha inside him and ordered it to eat at him. Slowly.

I found myself wondering about the promise he'd made. I wondered if the promise of never leaving me was purely physical. I wondered if I'd lose everything which made him Zach and be left with a broken shell in the end. But the answers to these questions would come to me only if I knew what the right questions were! If I _knew _where to search.

Zach scooted over to make space for Grant and Carrie, who were busily chatting about the movie. Dayna was sitting on the breakfast counter, swinging her legs as she watched everything in comfortable silence, occasionally nodding to Aaryan who'd tagged along for the movie, as well. I rarely saw the Indian boy. He wasn't entirely part of our friend circle but he was always invited to our outings. Mostly he was always locked up in his room or at the gym. Alex and Craig were the only ones who stood by the door, watching Zach and I with an uncomfortable expression on their faces. Then, Alex stalked to her room and slammed the door shut.

Elaine walked in, hanging up on the call she'd been making and shoved the phone back into her pocket. That seemed to distract Craig.

"That was a long phone call," he said, raising his eyebrows as he dropped on a beanbag chair beside me. I simply sat down on the floor next to him, eyeing Elaine. But she didn't seem fazed. She just shrugged, pushing back some of the pink hair falling over her eyes.

"Just my girlfriend."

"You're not single?" Craig asked, sounding incredulous.

I smacked him at the back of his head, hissing, "Real classy."

Aaryan scoffed, speaking up, something I'd rarely heard him do.

"Don't mind him, El. He's not homophobic. He's just astounded that not every single girl in the world is falling all over him."

"Hey," Craig said, rubbing the spot where I'd hit him. "I don't have a problem with her being gay. I'm still going to be her favorite guy friend at Henle. Right, gorgeous?" he grinned.

I think it was in Craig's favor that Elaine realized he was joking and laughed, sitting on the other side of the beanbag.

"Always."

They'd known each other only for a few hours. I guess this is when all those C&A classes paid off for us agents, and I guess we were just lucky that Craig was so outgoing in nature.

"How was the movie?" I asked. "Did you like it?"

"It was so cool, Laurie. I mean I know you saw it, but the ending was amazing. Right?" he asked, excited. I blinked and an old line from sophomore year came back to me, from when I'd been collecting pocket litter to go meet Josh for the first time. It hurt a little to remember it and say it, but I just shrugged.

"I liked it but I didn't buy the ending."

Craig's eyes widened and I hoped he wouldn't ask me why.

"What? Are you - I thought _you _would, with the black belt and all. Come on it was -"

"It was _so _fake, Craig," Grant interrupted, coming to my rescue.

"I'm telling you, Hugh, real spies can totally pull that off. You can't make that stuff up."

Everyone rolled their eyes, but I was sure that there were five people in the room whose hearts skipped a beat. I laughed and shook my head, which was a cue for everyone to return to their mini conversations. But my eyes were trained on Zach who was just watching everyone talking. He met my eyes and gave me a small smile, before standing up.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight," he announced, moving to the door.

"Already?" Craig asked, glancing at the microwave clock. "It's only ten."

"Early class tomorrow, and I'm going to the library first thing in the morning. I'll see you guys later."

His eyes lingered on me for a second before he gave a short wave and walked out the apartment. Craig turned to look at me.

"What?" I asked, noticing his expectant expression.

"I think that little look was cue for you to go say _goodnight, _if you know what I mean," he chuckled. "Shoo. Go. Get your ass out of here."

I didn't need to be told twice. This was the only chance I had to confront him. I walked out of the apartment and went to Craig's. The entire suite was quiet, save for the light coming out from under Zach's door. I knocked once before opening it. He had his back to me and was typing something on his phone. He turned around and his eyes widened when he noticed me. He put down his phone on his desk, pulling me closer, his expression worried.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" he asked, checking me for any damages even though it had been less than a minute since he'd left. I chuckled, shaking my head.

"Craig told me to come say goodnight. But he didn't need to tell me for me to do it," I whispered. Since I had abandoned my shoes after coming back from the museums, I had to stand on my toes to press a kiss to his lips. He didn't hesitate to respond, smiling a little as he put his arms around me.

"Craig told you to come say goodnight? He's taking this a lot better than I thought he would. After you told me -"

"Yeah, I guess he's not the jealous type. He seems happy that I'm happy."

"It's better than him trying to kiss you after seeing my reflection in a window," he chuckled, before he realized what he'd said. His expression of amusement dropped.

"Cam, I'm sorry, I didn't -"

"No," I shook my head, kissing him again. "Don't be. I can't...everyone has to move on from Josh's death in their own ways. I'd rather remember him the way he was. He deserves to be survived by the good times and not the bad times."

"I don't think those were good times for him," Zach whispered.

"It was the start of it with DeeDee. She was good for him. And I know they were happy, I know it -" my voice shook a little as I spoke, but my words were interrupted by the front door opening.

"Craig?" came someone's voice from the outside. Zach and I both remained quiet until we heard them leave again.

"You know," I said, changing the topic. "Alex likes you."

Zach laughed.

"I thought she was in love with Craig."

"Maybe she's trying to move on because she doesn't want to waste her time being sad anymore."

"You sound jealous."

"I didn't say _I _wasn't the jealous type," I said, scrunching my nose.

"Silly civilians," he whispered low. "Getting in the middle of two badass spies."

"Badass?"

"Well, _I'm _pretty badass. Madame Dabney said I was special, remember?"

"Like you could make me forget," I laughed, before looking around. "Are you really going to bed?"

He looked like he would've loved to take me up on a different offer, but he nodded. I frowned. It was a split second mistake on his part - something I'd never seen him make - but I saw his eyes shift to the phone he'd put down earlier. Doubt crept up deep inside my chest as he kissed my forehead.

"Sleep tight, Gallagher Girl. And stay safe in there. I'll see you in first period."

I smiled, reaching up to kiss him again, my hands roaming through his hair and down his neck. He groaned, pulling away.

"The things you do to me," he said.

"Not the kiddish kind?"

"Not in the least," he smiled, kissing me quickly again.

I left, closing the door behind him. My body felt like jelly as I shook my head. No. No, if he had to go somewhere for some covert operation, he'd tell me. Even if he couldn't give me details, he'd tell me. Besides, nobody would give him another covert mission if he was already actively in the middle of protecting me. He wouldn't lie to me about that. I walked back to my apartment, hating myself for what I was about to do. I closed my door, remembering up the distance to Craig's apartment which I'd memorized on the first day. My fingertips felt cold from where I'd confirmed the fact that he was wearing his tracker, when I'd kissed him.

Sitting down on my bed, I held up my wrist bracelet, clicking the tiny latch on the side to re-sync it. It vibrated subtly, signaling me to enter a value in terms of meters. I pressed the latch again, setting it to a hundred. Then I waited, and waited, hoping nothing would happen. Two minutes and twenty five seconds later, a not so subtle vibration happened on my wrist. The centers of the ornate roses flashed a dull red, blinking again and again. He was out of radius. He'd lied.

I pressed my hand to my face, as if trying to wake myself up. It had to mean nothing. Maybe he went for a jog. Maybe he's just doing a perimeter check of the building. After all, the tracker had only given me a warning. If he crossed more than fifty percent of the set radius, only then would it go haywire. But less than a minute later, another shock was sent up my arm. This time the dull red was flashing bright, blinking rapidly.

No, I couldn't follow him. I had to sit still. I was on suspension. I was already in trouble for attacking Dillon. I couldn't break this rule, too. Technically, I had the right to leave but...no. I couldn't do that to Zach. I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't do that to _us. _But he'd followed me so many times to check up on me. No. No. No. No, I couldn't. But then I remembered his demented expression. The way he'd been acting. The glances to the phone. The blatant lie of going to bed instead of just telling me he had some need-to-know mini mission to get to.

And then I did what I usually do. I broke the rules.

I grabbed my bathrobe from the closet and quickly opened my hair from the braid it was in, letting it fall over my shoulder. Wrapping the robe around me, I grabbed my toiletry bag and walked out of the door.

"Where's everybody?" I asked Dayna, who was still sitting on the counter and chatting with Aaryan.

She turned to me.

"Elaine's in our room. Craig and Grant left with Carrie to go grab a late night bite. I haven't seen Alex since she locked herself up in her room. She's probably sleeping."

"Okay, I'm going to go take a shower," I said, waving at them and walking to the girls' bathrooms. Locking myself up in a stall, I shed the bathrobe and opened my toiletry bag. Beneath the loofah and the soaps and shampoos, was a small box. It was still in its cellophane wrapping and in a hotel kit style, it said the words "Bathroom Kit." I opened it, ruffling through the contents. There was a comm unit which would double as a satellite phone. I put the earpiece in my head, clipping the mic to my bra strap. I needed it. I'd have a three to five minute head start, after getting off campus, before my tracker lit up my radius breach at Langley. They'd inform both Zach and Grant, right away, and I had to do this as quick as possible. Inside it was also an emergency gun which I hesitated to pick up. After a second's thought, I loaded it, checked the safety and strapped it to the built in holster on my pants.

It didn't take me too long to slide aside the glass panes on the bathroom vents. Hoisting myself out, I landed on the ledge of the building, dropping down as a camera swept over my head. Rolling and dropping onto the grass below, I snuck away from Henle. The Hall wasn't far from the car park and I quickly searched for the assigned spot which Grant and Zach had for their cars. Grant's was sitting in its place. Zach's was missing. This was when my timer started. I sent a silent thank you to Mother Nature for making it snow the previous day, which left snow chain tracks until the gates. Then I started sprinting. One minute down. Two minute down.

Forty seconds later, my phone buzzed in my back pocket, which I'd already synced with my comm unit.

"Where are you?" demanded Grant.

"Out for a run."

"And you couldn't tell me this before?"

"It's just a short run."

"Anything can happen on a short run."

I was counting on that, but I didn't tell him this.

"If I'm not back in twenty minutes, you can start panicking."

"I'm already panicking. Twenty minutes is too much. If you really were on a run, why did you take your...back up things with you?"

"How do you know I did?"

"Because Dayna told me you went to shower and I found an interesting sight at the bottom of the girls' bathroom trashcan."

I wanted to reply but I stopped in my tracks, quickly ducking and rolling to the side of the road. The ground was slippery from the dusting of snow, not to mention, I wasn't far from the banks of the Potomac river. The silt bed was shifty under my feet.

"Are you still there? You wait there because I'm coming to get you."

"No," I said stubbornly, keeping my voice low.

"Dammit, Chameleon. I'm on my way. Stay on your unit or I swear to God, I will call for back up."

But I wasn't listening to him. My eyes were on the parked car on the side of the road which I knew was Zach's. He must've been in a real need to get away from me if he didn't even notice me tailing him. Not that I'd been particularly sloppy and it hadn't been easy catching up with a car. I ducked behind the trees, using the foliage as my cover. I could see Zach leaning against the car door, his breathing visible in the cold air. His eyes remained trained in the direction which I'd come from. My sight shifted the moment his expression did. There was somebody in a black hoodie who was running to the car, stopping right in front of him. Zach was talking to them furiously - a woman, I realized, as she pulled her hoodie down. I couldn't see her face; nor tell her hair color in the night. I scooted a little closer, careful not to rustle any leaves or shift any dirt.

There was a sinking feeling settling inside my chest. Okay, so he was meeting up with a woman. It wasn't that big of a deal. But he'd lied about it. But that didn't really matter, right? It was probably for a mission. She was probably the agent he was supposed to be checking in with from time and again. But his expression didn't look like he was checking in. He was smiling. For the first time in two weeks, that devil-may-care Zachary Goode smile was on his face. And it didn't even look fake. I swallowed thickly, shivering. And it wasn't because of the cold. I stepped closer, trying to assess her appearance to see if I recognized her. She shifted a little, turning her back to me.

But that was enough. I saw the Juicy Couture track pants. And not just any old track pants. There was a huge splotch of chocolate syrup behind the knee. I knew this was chocolate because I was the one who'd dropped it there. I knew this because I'd had to listen to a hellish speech about personal space and respect for other people's property, after I'd done it. I knew this because I'd promised to get them dry cleaned after I'd done it, and had to have the same stain shoved in my face, every few days, until the owner gave up.

Zach hadn't snuck out and lied to me to meet another agent.

He was talking to Alex.

I staggered backwards, further down the sharp incline of the river bed. The river rushed furiously, bits of ice tossing around in the rapid waves. I felt my phone buzzing again and something sharp itched on my forearm. I pulled up my sleeves like a robot, staring at the freshly healed skin. Amidst the faded scars of my torture, there was one neat line of a slit. Underneath the layers of my skin, a dull red dot was blinking. Grant was already tracking me. I pressed the button on my comm unit, whispering in a daze, trying to collect my thoughts.

"Grant?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm coming back."

"But where are you?"

"I -"

"Are you on Canal road?"

I realized that if Zach saw Grant coming, he'd know I was here. And suddenly, I wasn't prepared for a confrontation anymore. It didn't matter to me that he'd lied. That if he wanted to talk to Alex, he could've done it anywhere on campus and not here in the middle of the night. I couldn't face him. Not yet.

"Yes, but stop. I'll come to you."

"No, I'm -"

"Grant, please," I whispered, already moving in the direction which lead me away from Zach and Alex. I had to get myself together, I scolded myself. Once I was sure I was out of their line of sight, I hopped out of the greenery and back onto the main road. Then I started to run back, pushing myself to go faster and faster with every step. I ran into Grant halfway, but I didn't say anything to him. He simply followed me back, even when I climbed back up the parapet and into the bathroom. I didn't want to push him off the building, so I let him in before sliding the glass back on the window.

"Where did you really go?" he asked as I stripped off my jacket and took the gun out of my holster. He froze for a second, reaching for it, but I was already unloading it, digging through the trash for the box.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," he responded, kneeling beside me. He noticed my shaking hands and grabbed them, making me look up.

"What's going on? Where did you go?"

"Let me go."

"I'm on your side, here. I'm supposed to be protecting you! You're my friend. You're...my best friend's girlfriend. Your Bex's best friend!" he said. I didn't realize that Bex's best friends meant so much to him but I was in no mood to question it. If anything, I was happy they'd moved past the stage of him winking at her between classes and her flipping her hair at him.

"Grant..." I snapped, flipping our hands so I was squeezing his. I hoped he got the message. "I really just needed some fresh air, ok?"

He frowned, probably trying to decide if he should believe me or not.

"Listen, you can't just run around, okay? You can tell us if you want to leave -"

My bracelet vibrated again, subtly this time, the dull red going down to nothing. Grant's eyes fell to the flash of color and then his eyes widened. It took me a second to realize he knew exactly where I had been this whole time - where Zach was.

"You -"

"No, listen to me. You never should've followed him. _Promise me, _you will not do that again. It is dangerous!"

His voice sounded furious, his eyes wide. I pulled my hands back, irritated and angry. Everyone was asking me to make promises when nobody seemed to be keeping them in return. How was I supposed to know who I could trust?

"You know! You know he's lying to me -"

"He has to-"

"He doesn't have to give me the details! But _lying blatantly _-"

"Dammit, Cameron, listen to me," Grant snapped. I'd never heard him snap at me before and the shock of it had me shutting up.

His hands came down on my shoulders, his grip tight.

"Whatever he's doing, I know it looks bad. It looks really bad. But you have to trust him. Him telling you could hurt you more than you not knowing. And you sneaking around and finding out could hurt both of you! So, tell me, you won't. Just trust him. He loves you. He's trying to protect you."

My throat felt dry as I remembered the way Alex used to glare at me. The smile on his face as she'd run up to him. I slid free from Grant's grasp.

"He has a crap way of doing it. Now, get out. Before I inform the Hall advisors that you're sneaking into the girls' bathrooms."

Grant looked thoroughly offended but he gave me a warning look before leaving. I repacked the gun and comm units into the box, getting rid of my wet and muddy clothes. Without thinking about it, I stepped into the cold shower before even waiting for it to turn hot. The temperature went up quick, scalding my skin, but I didn't care. I'd been through worse burns. And my tracker was in too deep to get damaged by this. Zach's smile kept attacking my vision and I groaned. Furiously, I punched the slick tiles, letting the water run down my body. It created muddy trails around the drain and I found it ironic how everything was just sliding off of me and flushing away.

Trust him. Trust him. Trust him. He's lied before to protect you. Trust him.

But I just...couldn't. Instinct told me otherwise. Instinct told me this wasn't about protecting me at all. And I really hated my instinct.

When I walked back to the apartment, skin all splotchy and hair dripping wet, Dayna was sitting at the counter. She seemed to be working on an assignment, typing furiously on her laptop.

"That was a long shower," she said without looking up. I barely grumbled in response before an irritated shriek went through the apartment. To my surprise, Alex stormed out of her room. The girlfriend in me wanted to tackle her to the floor right then and there. But the spy in me noticed that she was still in the clothes she'd worn when she'd come back from the movie. I frowned at her.

"Where's my tracksuit?" she demanded and Dayna and exchanged a glance. I pretended to look confused.

"What suit?"

"The one you wrecked! The Juicy one! I haven't seen it since before winter break," she said, glaring at me as if everything was _my _fault.

"How should I know?"

"I gave it to you to dry clean before the holidays!"

"No, you didn't," I said, my brows furrowing deeper.

"Yes, I did! I kept it in Ivan's car when he told me he was driving you to Richmond. I put it in the backseat, on top of your luggage! Don't tell me you lost it!"

Ice replaced the heat from the shower, my skin prickling uncomfortably. I swallowed, shaking my head. Alex shrieked again, stomping away, mumbling about not being able to trust anyone anymore.

I quickly darted to Dayna and Elaine's room, seeing the pink haired girl reading a magazine. She looked at me and one glance at my expression had her shooting off the bed.

"What?" she mouthed.

"How long has Alex been here?" I asked.

"Since we came back from the movie."

"You're sure. You're absolutely positive?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Alex never left this apartment."

I staggered back, my mind running at a hundred miles an hour. Zach's car had the tracksuit I'd seen tonight. It was sent to me, but I'd never received it. And he'd been by my side the entire day we'd travelled to London. He hadn't even been the one to load the luggage in his car. I remembered because the dorm volunteers moved luggage before and after break. Someone - someone _not _on my side had stolen that jumpsuit. And right now there were only two sides - mine and the Circle's. That someone had met Zach tonight. That someone had put that smile on his face.

And then I really hated my instinct.

Because curiosity had killed the cat, and no amount of satisfaction was bringing it back.


	8. eight

**Aaaaahhhhh so much love from you guys, and I'm going to return it tenfold. So, to all of you wondering what Zach's been up to for the past two chapters, you're very close to figuring it out this chapter. That little meeting of his with the mystery woman wasn't the start of something...it was the end of something. You'll see just why in this chapter and the next ;) **

**Thanks for the continued love and support, and happy reading! Do let me know if you liked it :D**

**Also, I totally went with the popularly accepted headcanon everyone has of Grant and Jonas' last names being Newman and Anderson, respectively, since the books never mention their last names. **

**- Brooke xx**

**Chapter Rating: T**

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Eight**

_**Covert Operations Report:**_

_At approximately 2315 hours on January 17th, Agent Morgan conducted a surveillance operation on Agent Goode (hereby referred to as, The Subject). Agent Morgan found The Subject conducting secret meetings with a suspected hostile entity. Agent Newman explicitly informed Agent Morgan that The Subject was to be trusted._

_Agent Morgan is unaware and unsure whether to treat The Subject, and Agent Newman, as hostile or not._

I hadn't been able to sleep peacefully at all. All night long, all sorts of terrifying scenarios plagued my mind (although the one where Grant turns into an octopus can be ruled out as a real world possibility). I couldn't trust Zach. Zach! He was the one person in my life that I thought I could always trust, despite all the secrecy we sometimes had. I could've always counted on him to be on _my _side even if he didn't tell me things. Now, I didn't know anything anymore. How had he found it in himself to hold me in his arms, in the same place we'd first met, and then say things like he wanted everything to go away? How could he make me promise him, that after all _this _(and whatever more was to come), we would make it out okay? Had he known? Had he known from the start that he was going to betray my trust like this? Had he wanted me to promise so that he would find it easier to beg for forgiveness later?

Was there even a later? I could die. All of us could die at _any time. _I buried my face in my hands, itching my eyes which threatened tear up. No. I was not going to cry. I was done crying. Crying wasn't going to get me anywhere. I had to be rational. Zach and Grant were my bodyguards. Something happened over winter break to change Zach's behaviors. He's now lying to me and having a secret meeting(s?) with someone who could wish harm upon all of us. Grant knows this and has asked me to trust Zach because he's doing it for my protection.

No. No, I didn't believe it for a second. Zach was smarter than that. He'd tried to protect me in the past, according to his own rules. Even then he'd never bring himself to actually work for his mother. He'd worked on his own, but from our side. No, this was not about protecting me.

And that scared me even more.

My bracelet buzzed again, and I realized I'd never re-synced it to more than a hundred meters. Instead of doing that, I took it off and threw it across the room. If he wanted to take things into his own hands, so could I. I couldn't exactly get the tracker from my arm out without bringing in my personal army of friends and family. But the bracelet was going. That was for Zach's satisfaction. And I wasn't giving him any. There was a knock on my door and Dayna popped her head in. She noticed my troubled expression and raised her eyebrows.

"Are you okay?" she asked. I nodded vaguely.

"Yeah. What's up?"

"I was just going to the library to finish off the assignment for Professor Higgens. Do you want to come? Did you finish it?"

Actually no, I hadn't. I'd completely forgotten about homework while worrying so much for the past few weeks.

"No, I'll come with," I said, pulling on my shoes and grabbing my backpack. The walk to the library was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable manner. We walked through the doors, swiping our student IDs and making our way to the Psychology section. We had a secluded table at the back which all of us always did our homework on. Dayna and I thought it'd be empty since we were the only ones up before class actually started. Turns out we were wrong. Zach was leaning back in his chair, frowning at his textbook, a highlighter flipping through his fingers.

I came to a halt, squeezing my bag tightly. His eyes shot up as he looked at us, and he smiled. A small smile. Not _that _smile. Not the one he'd given his friend/whatever last night. I smiled back widely, playing along, and taking a seat next to him. Dayna sat beside us, taking out her laptop and pulling up her unfinished work from last night. I'd forgotten that Zach had said he was coming to the library today. I'd thought that was just an excuse to "go to bed" early. The fact that he hadn't lied made my heart soar a little. Maybe I was being too harsh. Maybe - then I remembered the smile he'd given that woman. I had to stop myself from slamming my textbook onto the table.

"I don't get this at all," Dayna groaned, scratching her temple with the back of her pen. Zach shifted closer to her, looking over her shoulder.

"It's easy," he said. Even though the three of us were alone and it was so early, he kept the Ivan appearance going. He proceeded to explain to Dayna exactly how memory and cognition worked. I found myself tuning them out. The last thing I needed was to listen to lectures about memory. Mine was messed up enough, as it was. Plus, listening to Zach act so mundane and carefree was just...sickening. How could he? How did he, when he was clearly hiding something? Instead, I just stared at my textbook with narrowed eyes, as if the book was holding all the answers.

"Thanks, you're such a lifesaver," Dayna sighed, as she continued typing. Did she mean that as a phrase or did she mean that literally? Looking up, she noticed me doodling on the corner of my textbook.

"Aren't you- hey, where's your Christmas bracelet?"

I looked up to see Zach's expression. But his eyes were glaring at my bare wrist, his jaw clenched. Oh, so _he _was hurt and confused? I could just pretend I'd forgotten about it. The entire idea had been to play along and observe him from the sidelines. But I was in no mood to sit still. I'd been sitting still for weeks. And Zach didn't feel like he was on my side anymore. For anyone else, I'd have been five times more patient. For Zach, I'd have waited a lifetime till he came to me. But not this Zach. Not the Zach who was precariously close to shattering every ounce of trust I'd placed in him. My voice was nonchalant as I shrugged.

"It was bothering me," I said, scratching the spot where the accessory had been. My eyes turned to Zach, who was frowning at me. "It started doing this weird static shock thing last night. Must be because of the winter dryness."

"Can that even happen?" Dayna asked.

"How do I know? _Not _a physics student."

"Oh, right, speaking of. Yesterday, Professort Higgens -" but I tuned her out again. I was simply watching Zach. His furious expression had melted into one of horror. His eyes were wide as he watched Dayna and I clear up our things and walk out the door. He was quick to follow, grabbing my arm. I yanked myself free, keeping up with Dayna. She was eyeing us with wariness, probably worrying if we were going to go all spy mode and start throwing each other around. As we passed by our dorms to change for class, Elaine walked out, fully dressed.

"There you are," she waved at Dayna, pulling her away.

Zach took it as his chance to drag me into the space between two of the buildings. He pushed me against the walls, pinning me to the bricks so that I couldn't escape. Instinct drove in as I struggled. My hand came up to punch him. He tried to avoid it, but with his arms trying to hold me down, I managed to clip his chin. He hissed, clutching his face as I scrambled. Adrenaline coursed through my body and I'd never felt less safe around him. He grabbed my ankle, bringing me down and this time when I kicked, he was prepared for it. He pinned my arms behind my back, holding me down. I felt like I was a sophomore again, and we were on a roof. Back then he'd lied to me about knowing a tail we had. Back then, it had just been an elaborate set up to test us (ignoring the fact that Dr. Steve had turned out to be horrible in the end). Was this a set up too? Isn't that what we'd said? That this was a stage and we were all playing our parts for the invisible director.

It didn't feel like a play. It didn't feel like a stage.

"Let me go," I hissed. His grip on my arms tightened, and I struggled uselessly.

"Stop fighting me, and I will," he said, flipping me over so I was facing him. His eyes looked terrified.

"Lauren, stop fighting me."

I tried not to let those eyes fool me. I did, I really did. I couldn't fall for it. But then my struggles were becoming weaker and he was pulling me into his arms, holding me tightly to stop my flailing. And then I realized, that if the Circle had really got to him, then they'd chosen the perfect person. They'd chosen the person who I had a hard time resisting. I hated them for it. I hated him for it.

"You lied," I mumbled, my arms crushed between our chests, his vice like grip making it hard to breathe. Of course, that wasn't the reason I was gasping and trying not to cry.

"You shouldn't have followed me. I didn't think-"

"That I'd use the bracelet? Why? Isn't that why you'd given it?"

"No...look. What you did...it was dangerous and stupid -"

"Save the lecture. Hugh already gave it to me."

"I'm glad at least one of us is stopping you from jumping into crazy situations."

"I'm glad at least one of my bodyguards can be trusted to keep me safe."

He let me go, his face morphed into shock and hurt.

"You think I won't keep you safe?" he asked.

"No, Ivan. I'm afraid you won't be keeping me at all."

The words were brutal enough to make him scoot backwards until his back was pressed against the wall. His hands came up to rub his face, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. I took deep breaths, scooting backwards and leaning against the opposite wall, facing him. I tried to study what he was thinking. He seemed to be struggling, opening and closing his mouth. A humorless chuckle dropped from it and I looked away.

"So, that's what this has come down to? You follow me in the middle of the night, risk your _own _safety and then threaten to break up with me just because you saw something you didn't even understand?"

I raged.

"This isn't about breaking up! This is about me not even knowing who you _are _anymore. Ever since Roseville, I've waited patiently. _I _lost Josh. Not you. I lost him and even I picked myself up from it. And then you started acting weirder and weirder. Then you're blatantly lying to me about having a secret rendezvous with someone, who I later found out was using _my _roommate as a disguise. Someone who's had eyes on all of us for much longer! Eyes on me! Eyes on Dayna! _You _tell _me _what I'm supposed to think."

"You and I both know that there are some things we _have _to keep from each other. You're getting all this off of one piece of information I can't give you."

"No, I'm getting this from the fact that we _never _lie to each other about what we're doing. We always tell each other the bare minimum. _Always. _All you had to do was say: _It's something important, I can't tell you right now_. That's it. I wouldn't have done any of the things I did yesterday."

"Yeah? What if you're not supposed to know I'm up to something?"

"Then I guess that leaves me no choice but to wonder who exactly you're working for."

He laughed again, leaning his head back on the wall. Out of pure frustration, he punched the ground and I winced. I stood up, ready to leave, turning my back on him.

"If you're really going to stop trusting me," he called out and I stopped, closing my eyes. "Then can you just...don't forget that I love you. Please."

His hands were on my shoulders, and I hadn't even heard him get up. His arms went around me, pulling me close again, his face pressed to my shoulder. I didn't even realize I was shaking until he held me. I bit my lip, shaking my head.

"I love you so much," he whispered, and I thought I heard his voice crack. "Please...if you're going to...if you're going to believe _anything _then believe that. Don't ever forget that."

I pushed him away and walked back out to the front of the building. I pretended I didn't have tears running down my cheeks. I pretended I didn't want to run back and tell him I loved him too.

* * *

"Well, don't you look just giddy with happiness," came a sarcastic voice, snapping me out of my thoughts. My hand dropped the fork which I was using to stab my burger over and over again. Craig dropped down in the booth, beside me, his eyes not twinkling with amusement for once. I frowned, abandoning my food. The college crowd rushed around us, although we weren't even on campus. We were at a small diner a few blocks over. It was the place everyone came to for a meal when they wanted some alcohol. Currently, I was very tempted to have some. It was only my instinct to remain alert which was stopping me. The music blared through the sound system as I sighed.

"You don't look particularly ecstatic either," I pointed out. He shrugged, swiping a french fry from my plate. I smacked his hand, even though I wasn't eating it.

"What's on your mind?" I asked, raising my eyebrows and resting my cheek on my hand. He shrugged.

"Nothing. I'm worried about you."

"Me? Why me?" I asked, confused.

"Alex said she saw you and Ivan arguing about something. And you were acting weird during lunch. I figured something was bothering you."

I sighed.

"Craig -"

"You don't have to tell me. We don't have to talk about it, if you don't want. I'm just here to cheer you up."

I smiled a little, shoving him playfully. He grinned, waving at someone at the bar. Carrie came over, balancing a bottle of beer on her tray. She winked at both of us as she placed it in front of Craig. But when Craig turned around, she gave me a fierce look and mouthed '_no, no, what are you doing with him?'. _She probably thought I'd run to Craig the minute I'd fought with Zach. Craig didn't see it. Instead, he opened the bottle of beer and offered it to me. I shook my head and he shrugged, taking a deep sip._  
_

"So. What did Vladimir do now?"

"Tell me you're not using Alex's nicknames," I groaned.

"Hey. You'll know it's a problem when I call you Karate Kid, okay? We're safe for now."

"He didn't do anything. We just argued. People do that."

"People do that, yes," he nodded, as if he was coming up with some great scientific observation. "Doesn't mean people don't get very upset about it."

"I'm sorry," I blurted out, before thinking. He frowned. I hadn't meant to say it, but I couldn't help it. He was being nice and understanding, despite watching me fight with someone who he was probably jealous of. Shouldn't he be ecstatic? Shouldn't he be celebrating and trying to whisk me away? No. He was here buying beer and stealing my fries, all the while carrying a worried expression on his face.

"For what?" he asked.

"You know what."

He swallowed uncomfortably, and then he shrugged.

"So, I like you. Big deal." He tried to act nonchalant but I could tell the words weren't easy for him. I don't think I'd ever seen Craig feel uncomfortable while talking.

"It is a big deal if you're hurting," I said, touching his shoulder. He tensed for a second. He'd never done that either. Then he turned to me with a huge smile. If I didn't know how to read people, I'd have believed it. But even I could see the sadness it masked. It was in his eyes, in his dimples, on his lips. I could see it right in front of me. And I felt terrible being the cause of it.

"It's not a big deal to you. It shouldn't be. It's not your fault how I feel. You shouldn't feel guilty for being happy with someone who's so good to you, Laurie."

"But -"

"But nothing," he said, taking my hand. He squeezed it tight, his fingers cold from holding the beer bottle. "I like you. That means I want you to be happy. Do I wish you were finding that happiness with me? All the freaking time. Am I upset you found it with someone else? Never. I'm your friend, Lauren. I'll always be your friend because that's what you need me as. I would never try to hurt you by expecting more than what you want to give."

I smiled a little, although that felt sad too. I hadn't expected that. Craig was too sweet for his own good. Then he leaned closer, whispering.

"FYI, Vladimir is standing outside, probably looking at us right now," he said, without looking away. "And he's probably crazy jealous right now, so I'm going to let him get his head out of his ass and come over. As a favor to the two of you."

"And how are you going to do that?"

Craig leaned in and I froze. I was too stunned to push him away, as his bright brown eyes got closer to me. But he didn't kiss my lips. No. He simply leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek, whispering in my ear.

"Remember what I said, Lauren. I'm your friend. I won't do anything more than what you want me to."

Then he pulled back, slipping back into the Craig personality everyone saw. The loud, funny, cocky one. He stole another fry and I smacked him again. As a form of my own revenge, I stole his beer, finishing the rest of it in one gulp. He grinned, continuing to eat the fries.

"Well, I'd love to chit chat, but your guy is going to barge in any second and I'd rather keep my head on my neck," he chuckled, pulling out the money for the beer and giving it to me. Then he seemed to remember something and pulled out the rose bracelet tracker which I'd thrown in my room.

"Where did you get this?" I asked, taking it from him.

"Dayna found it in your room. Asked me to give it to you, since she knew I'd run into you here. She told me Ivan gave it to you for Christmas. You shouldn't leave it lying around."

I took a deep breath, staring at the bracelet which had buzzed and lit up twice last night. I could once again picture Zach running around. The conversation we'd had in the alley between the buildings.

"Why don't you hold onto it just for a little longer?" I asked, giving it back to Craig. He looked skeptical, but I put it in his shirt pocket.

"Lau -"

"Just till tonight. I'll sort it out before then."

I patted his hand and stood up, adding the money for the uneaten burger. Just then Zach walked in, eyeing the both of us. He didn't look jealous or upset. He just looked sad. Craig cleared his throat and walked out, leaving us alone. Before he got to the door, he turned around and mouthed _'talk to him!' _Then he left.

"Lauren -" Zach said, and I shook my head.

"Later. I just need to take a walk. Think some things." I moved past him but his hand clutched mine. I closed my eyes at the gentle hold. This wasn't him trying to stop me from fighting. This was pleading. I turned around and gave him a small shrug.

"I'll come back. We'll talk after. I promise."

Then I left, too.

* * *

"I didn't expect to find you here," carried a voice behind me. I turned around, startled. I'd been walking up and down the same road I'd spotted Zach on, last night. But the passing traffic had kept me from really being alone with my thoughts. Instead of heading back, I'd waited for a space in time for there to be no cars. Then I'd gone off road and started trekking. Darkness started to fall, but I still kept going, pushing myself forward. My mind whirred with the things Craig had said. With Zach telling me he loved me. I groaned, trekking deeper. Because of the wide silt bed of the Potomac, there were spots of greenery and scenery which were contrasting to the city. A lot of college kids came here to party, mostly for the camping-slash-bonfire feel. Obviously, it was deserted at the moment. The winter was too cold to have a party right now. I was sitting a few feet from the edge of a small cliff, watching the icy river rush by below, the sun setting and making the sky turn orange and yellow.

"Carrie...what are you doing here?" I asked. She was still in her uniform from the diner but it was obvious she'd just gotten her break. She smiled, shrugging and sitting next to me.

"I come here, sometimes, to be by myself. I saw you coming here and decided to follow. You must be really upset about whatever happened if you decided to come all the way here."

"It's a nice place to think," I said, sighing and looking at the view. We both stayed quiet for sometime. I turned to see Carrie staring at my hands. I looked down, realizing that I'd pushed up my sleeves all the way after sweating from the trek. Since it was winter, I hadn't really put much effort into hiding the faded slashes on my arms. I quickly started to pull down my sleeves but she smiled.

"It's okay. You don't have to hide them from me. I have some too," she said, rolling up her sleeves. For one wild second I thought she was going to show me something worse - perhaps a problem she had. But instead I found slashes exactly similar to mine. Old, faded. Haphazard and clearly not made by herself. I frowned. She was staring at my arms again, smiling weirdly. I swallowed, looking around.

"So, where's the bracelet Zachy gave you?"

I looked up to find her silvery-grey eyes trained on me, her dark red hair blowing in the wind. And then I wanted to laugh. I did laugh actually, shaking my head. This - this is what I meant about not being able to trust anybody around me. How many times had I passed by redheads on the road, wondering if they were the reason Josh was dead? That they were the reason Catherine was still alive. I'd spent so much of my time looking over my shoulder, that I hadn't seen the calamity approaching me from the front.

"It's somewhere safe, for now," I replied. She nodded.

"It's a very old, very beautiful thing, isn't it?"

"How do you know?"

"Well, I'm the one who gave it to him."

Hadn't he told me someone had given it to him a long time ago? Why her? Who was she? But she was just staring off into the distance, looking at something I couldn't see. She kept singing the song from the diner, whispering the words under her breath.

"Isn't it so irritating when a damn song gets stuck in your head?" Her expression was more cryptic than her words were. I bristled.

"Is Cathy even your real name? Or was it just something you told Dillon?" I asked. She smiled, once more that eerie smile which sent chills up my spine.

"Yes, actually. Cathleen."

"Sounds a lot like Catherine," I grumbled.

"Well, yes. She's my sister."

Well.

Now, you'd think I'd be used to being introduced to my boyfriend's family in such bizarre ways. But, the shock never really wore off. My mind whirred faster than before, a million questions slamming through my head. Catherine's _sister. _Zach's aunt. A circle member. A descendent. _You're going to die, Cammie, _I told myself. There was indeed a chance I was going to die right now. But not without answers. No way was I leaving without answers. Could she give me any? I doubted it. She seemed to be in a world of her own.

I studied her face carefully, noticing some things I'd never fully noticed before. Or I'd noticed, but I'd never made the connection. The color of her hair. The expression on her face. That smile - that godawful smile which she shared with her sister. Their age difference was obviously vast, since Carrie - Cathy could pass for a twenty one year old. But I'd known most of my life that looks could be very deceiving. I'd also learnt from Macey that make up was your best friend when it came to looking younger.

"Does Zach know?" I finally asked.

"Nope. I'm sure he wondered it. We were close when he was growing up."

"Why did you do that to Josh?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"You're feeling so smart right now, aren't you? For putting this stuff together?"

No, I wasn't. Not at all. Because this was another act on the stage they were setting. I hadn't figured it out. She'd approached me. She'd wanted me to know now, for some reason or the other.

She laughed, and I felt the sudden urge to choke her. But I knew that if I picked a fight now, then it could just be to the death and I'd get no answers after that. Suddenly, I regretted leaving my tracker with Craig. I could only hope that someone would start worrying soon and set off the tracker in my body. The sky grew darker with every second. The wind grew colder. Maybe it was the adrenaline rushing through my body, but I imagined footsteps in the trees around us. People coming to get me.

"I could've picked anyone, I suppose. But I liked him. He was a sweet boy with a vast future."

"So you got him killed?"

"It's always more fun when they've got fulfilling lives ahead of them. All the more tragic."

I stood up at the same time she did, bracing myself for some kind of attack. But she didn't attack me. She just hummed under her breath as she walked to the edge of the cliff. She held her arms out, letting the wind flutter her jacket and her hair. And suddenly, I couldn't let her die. Oh, I wanted her to die. I wanted her to die painfully until there was nothing left of her, just like there was nothing left of Josh. But she was an asset. And death was too kind. I reached forward to pull her back, but she grabbed my arms and spun me around. For a slight thing, she had a lot of strength. Her body was pressed close to mine, my feet right at the edge. A wild look overtook her pale eyes.

I struggled to throw her off, but rocks around my shoes crumbled and fell many feet down below. How far would I fall if I risked it? Eighty feet? Maybe hundred?

"Oh, Cameron," she said, closing her eyes. "Catie was right. Such potential wasted."

Then she hugged me. Revulsion twisted through me. She'd hugged me before as Carrie, the sweet roommate. But this was haunting. This was sick. I threw her off of me, pulling myself away from the edge. Grabbing her by the collar, I picked her up, shaking her heard.

"You and your sister are sick and twisted. You're going to pay for everything you do, Cathleen Goode."

"Oh, on the contrary, I don't think I am."

She grinned wide at me, throwing her head back and laughing. I was a little startled by her dramatic laughter. Well, right up until she threw my hands off her again. I fell to the ground, scraping my knees but she picked me back up. She was a strong fighter. A really strong fighter. Had she gone to Gallagher too? Was she another enemy born in our sisterhood? I felt her throw me down. And with the shaky ground under me, I was no match for her. But that didn't mean I didn't try. I pulled her down to the ground, grabbing her tightly by the neck. She rolled us over, choking me in return. Her long nails pressed down on my windpipe, making me choke, making my hold on her loosen. She yanked me up, this time her hold tight on me.

"Why must you always fight? Why can't a conversation ever go civil with you?"

"Because you're not worth having a conversation with," I spat in her face. She wiped her face on her bicep, laughing. Pulling me close, she whispered in my ear.

"Hey Cammie? Tell Zachy and Joe that I send my love."

Before I could say anything or throw her off, a gunshot fired. I froze, watching her slide down to the ground, writhing in pain. She continued laughing, blood staining her teeth, her hands shaking as she hugged herself. Memories from Joe's cabin assaulted my head. The way Bex and I had run through the woods, the shooter taking an aim at me and then getting to her instead. I looked around in confusion, automatically ducking down, wondering if she'd been the target or me. I crawled away from her, keeping my eyes on her in case she pulled a stunt and tried to run. I should run, I told myself. I should get out of here. There were people in the Circle who wanted me dead. There were people who wanted her dead too.

But I couldn't. I refused to let her get out of my sight without watching her die first. Cathy was curled up on the ground, fiddling with something around her neck. Before I could stop her, she clicked a button on a tiny coin sized remote hanging from her necklace. At first, I didn't understand.

Then a sharp pain radiated through my body. I gasped, clutching my abdomen, my eyes shut tight. I felt like battery acid was crawling through my body, spreading through my lungs, taking my breath away.

I stumbled backwards.

And then I fell.

Time felt like it slowed down, wind rushing past me, the ground vanishing beneath me. A million faces flashed before my eyes as my vision blurred, pain making my body spasm. You'd think I'd have wished for a short fall. A fall I could survive. But in that moment, all I thanked nature for, was that the cliff was steep. Because it gave me time to shake myself free of the shock. It gave me time to twist my body so I wouldn't land on my back and crack my spine.

Then time caught up. Wind rushed past me faster as I picked up speed. It howled in my already ringing ears. I twisted and curled mid air, breaking through the surface of the raging river.

Cold water swallowed me whole, splinters of ice swirling around me. My hearing dampened and the weight of all my clothes pulled me under. My hands reached up towards the surface but I was no match for the river throwing me in different directions.

It felt like a million knives were piercing every inch of my body. The inexplicable pain continued curling inside my abdomen. I writhed, thrown around by the sharp currents of the water, pulled deeper. I tried to swim up. I was a strong swimmer. But my vision was starting to blur. Breath was coming low. And I could feel the world topple all around me. Time stopped existing. Everything stopped existing. I could see blood whirl through the water over me. Where was it coming from?

Then strong hands grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to the surface.

"CAMMIE!" Grant shouted, dragging me to the edge of the shore, throwing me to the ground. Had he really swam so fast? Or was I losing track of time? He slapped my face, prying my eyelids apart. His jacket curled up around my shoulders, water dripping from his hair onto my face. I tried to talk as I coughed. My abdomen curled in pain again and I cried out sharply, throwing up blood all over the rock and mud.

"CAMERON!" shouted another voice and another jacket was draped around my shoulders. I kept throwing up blood as Zach pulled me close, rubbing my arms to heat my body up.

"There's a -" I gasped. "A shooter. Up there. I think -"

"I know, I know. It's okay. It's over, Cammie."

"I -" I choked on blood again. "Oh god, it hurts."

I'd never before said those words to anyone. I'd been hurt a lot. Sure, I'd joked about getting hurt with my friends after P&E classes. But never had I begged and pleaded with someone to stop it from hurting (not that I remembered, anyway).

"Cammie, what hurts? Cam -"

"It hurts. Everything - Carrie...her name -"

"I know."

"You know?"

"Cammie, it's going to be okay. Just tell me what hurts."

"Everything. It burns."

"Burns?!"

"Cam - GRANT! Grant, the body!"

"What?"

"The body, Grant! Cathleen's body! I've got Cam."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Go!"

"You found me," I whispered as he pulled me close. I could hear people in the distance. Something that sounded like sirens.

"Of course, I did," he said, pressing a hard kiss to my forehead. I felt like I was shaking. I wondered if he was shaking too.

"How did you find me so fast?"

I blinked harshly, darkness threatening to take me under. Pain curled inside my chest as I held onto him, squeezing him hard to make it go away.

"Spy," he whispered, pointing to himself.

And then I knew. I just knew. I could still hear the gunshot ringing through my head. The mark finding Cathy as she fell. The goodbye she sent to him.

I shook my head, the answer as bitter on my tongue as my own blood.

"Assassin," I corrected.

And then I passed out.

* * *

I woke up by puking. It was probably less graceful than fluttering your eyelids and have people hold your hand. But I couldn't help it. There was a sharp tug inside my abdomen and I was leaning over the side of the bed, dazed and confused as bile and flecks of blood escaped my system. Luckily, someone had the sense of placing a bucket beside me after putting me there. The hospital room was quiet but I knew I wasn't alone. Familiar hands pushed back my hair and I looked up at my mom. When did she get here? I don't know. Was I glad she was here? Yes, most certainly.

"How are you feeling, kiddo?" she asked, smoothing back my hair. I tried to say I felt pathetic but it came out as a low groan. She smiled sadly, pushing me back down on the sheets. I was covered in layers and layers of blankets to heat up my body after the nasty shock I'd taken from the freezing waters. I felt naked under them even though I'd been put in a hospital gown. My mom patted down my hair and then picked up the bucket of puke. She grabbed a pair of tweezers and started stirring the disgusting contents of my stomach.

"What on earth are you doing?" I whispered.

"Looking for something."

"In my vomit?"

But my mother said nothing. She simply cringed as she picked up a blood and bile coated object. Quickly putting the bucket down, she walked back to me, placing the object on the silver bedside table. I glared at it, squinting at the tiny ball. It couldn't have been even 1/10th the size of my fingernail, it was so tiny. Like a ball bearing. It had one flickering dot of blue on it. I didn't understand what it was and why it had been in my body. But then my mom pulled out a remote and placed it next to the ball. She clicked a button on it and the light went off on it. I stared at the remote. It was the same remote Carrie - Cathy had pressed after she was shot. And then I remembered the sharp pain in my abdomen which had made me topple over.

"How did that get inside me?" I whispered. "Why didn't you take it out before?"

"Because we're not equipped for surgery here. And we knew it would come out on its own."

"Where is here?"

"What's the last thing you ate or drank around Cathleen?" she asked, instead.

I frowned.

"I had a beer at the diner. Well not so much as had - it wasn't even my drink! There's no way -"

"If there was a chance you'd drink it, she'd have done it."

"There was a _very tiny_ chance!" I exclaimed, sitting up. But she pushed me down, as I continued rambling. "That was Craig's drink. _He _could've been the one with that thing in his system. Whatever it is."

"Poison," my mom explained. "Not lethal. Just enough to upset your system and shock it."

I remembered what I'd told Dayna that day in my mom's office. That the Circle were wounded enough to not care who they hurt in the process. I thought of this ending up in Craig's body whose only crime would've been to not share his drink with me. Then I realized what my mom said about it not being lethal. This wasn't an attack. Cathy revealing herself to me was a warning that I had to watch my back. I fumed. It made my head hurt and body ache; not to mention my insides felt like they were burning up.

"Sleep. Get some rest," my mom said. "We'll talk about this later."

"But -"

"Sleep," she said.

I couldn't have dozed off for more than five minutes because when I woke up, everything felt the same. Except it was different hands which were pushing my hair off my face.

"You're doing the peeping academy thing again," I said, looking up at Zach. His expression was one I couldn't place. Fear. Worry. Anger. Hurt.

He knelt down beside the bed, stroking my cheek gently. My hand came up to touch his, and he sighed.

"Are you okay?" he asked. The way he asked the question wasn't the way everyone else asked. He wasn't asking if I was physically alright because he already knew I wasn't. He wasn't even asking me if I was mentally alright. He was asking me if I was _okay. _Was I?

"No, no I'm not," I said and he hesitated. I could see that he was scared. Of me. He was scared of me. Perhaps because the last time I'd looked at him, I wasn't looking at _him._ I was looking at the side of him which he'd been ashamed of for so long. The side of him which Blackthorne had built for so many years before he met me. A side of him that could kill somebody, and a side which knew exactly how to deal with it. A side of him which had killed Cathy. Suddenly, the weeks of silence made sense. This is what had been eating him up. The fact that he had been ordered to take a hit on someone - and it was someone he'd known. Someone he'd probably trusted. His words rang in my ear: _don't forget that I love you, please._

"You think I'm a monster," he whispered, and something in the way he said it made my throat close up.

"No," I shook my head. "I think we're _all _monsters, in some way or the other. I think you'd be a monster if you weren't tearing yourself up over this."

"I -"

"Shh..." I said, taking his hand.

"Can you ever trust me again?" he asked, his voice small.

"I never really stopped. Not really," I said, and I knew it was true. The back and forth feelings which had been driving me up the wall were a product of that. Trusting someone was easy. Not trusting someone was equally easy. The problem started when you trusted someone and then you felt like you were placing it in the wrong person. And the problem stayed when you still kept trusting them throughout everything they did. But it wasn't a problem anymore.

"Really?"

I nodded and then coughed, blood splattering on my lips. He cringed, wiping it away.

"You need rest. They gave you antidotes but it won't be gone until you get rest."

"Stay with me."

"I will. I'm right here."

"I have so many questions."

"I'll answer them when you wake up," he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead. I felt my lips tremble.

"Really?"

"Yes. You deserve to know who tried to kill you."

"You can tell me now that she's gone?"

"Yes, I can."

"She killed Josh -"

"I know," he said, pulling me into his arms.

"-and she tried to kill me-"

"I know."

"I wanted to kill her but you got to her first."

"I know, I know."

Yes, yes he knew. I buried my face in his neck, letting him shift me so that he could lie down next to me. It was an uncomfortable fit on the slim bed, but I didn't really care. I held him close, shivering and he pulled the many blankets tighter around me.

"Sleep. I'll be here. You can trust me," he said.

"I know."

Did I? Did I know that I could trust him?

Yes. Yes, I did.


	9. nine

**Yay, so finally some questions getting answered in this one. Zach finally explaining everything, which hopefully makes sense plot wise, ha. It made sense in my head :P Some more questions about Carrie/Cathy which get answered too. Yes, I was rather careful about making her nondescript and less likely to be suspected. I think I mentioned only in her intro that her hair was red, and never again because Cammie's so busy looking for a threat elsewhere, she doesn't notice it right in front of her. Ugh, The Circle playing with my baby's brain. Anyway, I guess this is them catching a break. Cathy revealing herself would've been their first plan of attack: a warning. So, things might lay low for some time while they recuperate and plan ahead ^_^.**

******Thank you for the readership! I am forever honored :D And let me know what you think :)**

**Also, to the lovely reviewer who asked why I made Zach's eyes obsidian: ****Because Cammie says in the fourth book that Zach has very dark eyes :) And originally I'd assumed it meant dark as in filled with dark emotion. But then I realized that 1) Cammie has never held back on describing eye colors before, regardless of emotions (because we know Joe has bright green eyes, Macey has blue ones). 2) She's compared his eyes to Catherine's time and again, which I thought was peculiar if she was talking about emotions (since she always points out how different the two of them are). And since Zach doesn't have anything else of his mother's appearance, then I knew she meant dark eye color. I don't actually picture them to be black. I kind of picture them to be dark brown (just like his hair) which looks black in different lightings. I was actually waiting for you to ask this question, because I know it's an extremely popular headcanon for Zach to have green eyes and Cammie to have blue eyes ^_^ And I figured I'd deviate a bit by giving Zach dark brown eyes and giving Cammie hazel ones (since she's always so insistent that nothing about her appearance is bright or loud, and since she's so jealous of Macey's blue eyes). That's also why I gave Ivan green eyes and Lauren blue eyes ;) And thank you so much for your lovely review, it made me very happy :)**

**- Brooke xx**

**Chapter Rating: T**

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Nine**

The wall was rough against my back as I sat in the corner of the secure room, waiting for the others to show up. My body screamed with pain and exhaustion, but it was nowhere close to when the poison had been inside me. This was a leftover ache which just needed to be slept off for a few days. My mom had wanted me to stay in bed for longer, but I wasn't having any of it after nearly eight hours of dreamless sleep. All I kept thinking about was the things Cathy had said. A bunch of confusion in my head before she died. I'm sure, that's exactly what she wanted. The Circle had always loved to pick apart people's brains.

I hadn't been to this room since my suspension - my access had been revoked. But when I'd been told I was in the same briefing/debriefing room under the bridge, I hadn't been all that surprised. This was the closest secure position they could hold me in. I'm sure everyone had wanted to take me to a CIA facility to get me checked out but I'd refused. I couldn't bear to be sent away again. I had to be in the middle of things.

"What's on your mind?" asked Zach. He was sitting next to me, holding my hand just as he had been for many hours now. His head was leaning on my shoulder and I shrugged.

"Honestly? Nothing."

"I thought you'd have a dozen questions bursting out of you already."

"That would require having at least some idea of what's happening."

"You don't know the right questions to ask, do you?"

No, I didn't. I knew he wasn't going to tell me anything until the others showed up. This wasn't just us being debriefed. This was his debriefing too. I looked up as I heard footsteps down the staircase. I automatically moved, on edge, and then hissed as pain shot up my torso. Zach squeezed my hand as a reminder that we weren't on a cliff top anymore. We were underground, protected by layers of biometric scans. The first person I saw was Joe. He looked just as dashing as ever (never again could I think of him as _hot_), but his green eyes were tinged with worry. My mom followed him, then Grant, then Abby and Townsend. They were followed by two other men in suits, and badges clipped to their chests. But the badges didn't specify which intelligence agency they were from. Zach stood up, walking over to them.

They took him aside, talking to him in low, curt tones. He nodded, his gaze unwavering, his back straightened as they continued to debrief him. I kept my eyes on him the whole time. It took a minute or two, but then they both shook both his hand and left. Zach walked back to us, dragging a chair and sitting down on it. I wanted to get up and stand like everyone else but everything hurt.

"Whatever I tell you guys right now, I'm only allowed to for Cam's safety. And because we're the ones who mainly dealt with the Circle last time," he said. We all nodded. I thought that much was obvious. But Zach's gaze lingered on me.

"I'm serious. Bex, Liz, Macey...even Elaine or Dayna can't know of this."

I felt offended. I knew what covert meant.

"Why aren't you telling Grant not to tell Bex?" I demanded.

"Because," Grant cut in. His voice was hard like steel, but I knew it wasn't directed at me. "Because I grew up learning how to be a hit man. I've learnt from the start that this kind of stuff stays between your bosses and you."

I swallowed, turning to Zach. He looked troubled, but he continued.

"I knew Cathy from Blackthorne. I was in the seventh grade when I met her. She'd graduated from Gallagher two years before, but unlike her other classmates, she'd wanted to teach other people like her. She always said that she learnt the most from her teachers and she wanted to give back. But Gallagher already had all required positions filled and she didn't have enough experience. So, she came to Blackthorne, instead."

"Blackthorne has female teachers?" I asked.

"Don't you have male teachers?" Zach asked, nodding towards Joe and Townsend. I conceded to that. I just couldn't picture Cathy in Blackthorne. Maybe it was because I'd only ever associated it with the word _boys._

"I didn't know she was my aunt. I didn't know until...well until Cam told me. I guess it was obvious but I didn't want to believe it. Anyway, she was always on campus and she was close to most of the students. Especially some of us, like Grant and I."

"What did she teach?" asked Abby.

"Not a subject. Like I said, she didn't have enough field experience. She overlooked the mandatory counseling we all had to go through twice a week."

They had mandatory counseling? Why? The answer came quick to me, in the form of a memory: _They teach us how to live with ourselves after._

"Why was she close to you and Grant and those other handful of students?"

Zach looked uncomfortable answering this, so Grant spoke up.

"Because we had potential. Which meant they'd use us a lot once we graduated, and that meant we had to go through more rigorous counseling than some of the others."

"Anyway," Zach said. "She stayed with us till we were in the ninth grade. But by that time the curriculum had already started to change, thanks to Joe. They were teaching us more how to save lives than to take them. We were still being taught to be killers, but we were being reminded more and more that things like that were a last resort. Cathy knew they were going to fire her at some point. I think she was happy about it. We were sad to see her go, but she reminded us that it was a good thing that we didn't need her."

"But you recognized her, both of you. The first day you guys came here," I pointed out. "When you met my other roommates."

"We did," Zach admitted. "But we didn't want to point it out. Covers were too important. I thought you and her were the undercover agents assigned to Dayna. I'd heard she'd joined the CIA, so I figured she was also roped into protecting her. I hadn't seen her in years. But then we went back to Roseville, and Dillon said that a redhead named Cathy had been the one to get Josh into Gallagher. I didn't want to believe it. I had to make sure it was the same Cathy."

That's when it had changed, I realized. The moment when Zach had started pulling away. The minute we'd pressed pause on Dillon's confession tape, his entire body language had altered. I suddenly felt a connection to that alteration. Had I changed too, that day in London, when my own teacher had looked at me with crazy eyes and asked me to follow the pigeons? No, I probably hadn't. Not like him. Or maybe I just didn't remember changing. Because I'd always wished Joe was good; and he was. Zach had always known Cathy was a traitor; and he'd had to take her life.

"I started hanging out with her more and more. She told me stories of how she'd been all over Europe after the fire at Gallagher. How she'd decided to take a sabbatical and just get a break from everything that had gone haywire. But I'd already contacted CIA to confirm her identity. They told us she _had_ taken a sabbatical, and her last job had been to be part of the guards who were supposed to escort my mom out of Gallagher and to her secure facility. As it turned out, after she'd ensured her ...sister was alive, she went underground. Preparing herself to come to Georgetown. Either to keep an eye on Cammie, or Dayna. Both were targets of the Circle, and she had them together. It didn't matter that my mom wanted to stop the war. Dayna was still a target and not one as important as Amirah, so they probably weren't worried about her life."

I remembered what my mom had said about there not being any redhead on the security tapes the night of the fire. Of course, we'd considered disguises and that was exactly what had happened. Cathy had been there that night. Stalking Roseville to find a potential candidate to take her sister's place. Finding Josh. Blackmailing Dillon. Ensuring that nobody found out what had happened to Josh...until now. And keeping an eye on the rest of us.

"I knew I wasn't going to be able to get her to tell me anything until I pretended to be her friend. So, I told her I wanted to talk to her alone about something important. As it turned out, she'd been running all over D.C, using Alex as an identity, so nobody would find her the whole time we were in London and Roseville. After all, people still thought she was in Europe. When I met her, I lied to her that I knew enough about the Circle because of who my mother was. Either she was an agent who was going to tell me to share that with the intelligence agencies, or she was going to try and recruit me. There was a slim chance of either, but she went with the latter. It took me a couple of days to get under her skin and earn her trust. I think, she already knew what I was up to and didn't mind. She'd already been given orders to target Cammie."

His voice was thick at this point, and he swallowed.

"When I relayed this information back, they told me there was no point bringing her in. There was nothing she knew that we didn't already know - since she'd been recruited so late and she was still so young. She wasn't going to switch sides. She wasn't going to crack either. So, she was just a threat who had to be eliminated. Especially since she lived with both Dayna and Cammie. They ordered a hit on her, and I was told to do it because I'd learnt her patterns. After I talked to Cammie in the diner, I told Grant to keep an eye on her while I tailed Cathy. But you weren't supposed to be there," he said, turning to me. His eyes held a sense of fear and I knew why. Cathy and I had been fighting when she'd been shot. And most of her moves had involved throwing me around suddenly. If Zach had timed the hit wrong, then I'd be the one dead.

"But I had to take the hit. I was on a time limit. And I did. I moved to make sure Cammie was safe, but she'd already fallen. So, I backtracked and went to the shore."

"I was already there," Grant interrupted, taking over. "I knew where Cammie was because I had eyes on her. That cliff can be seen from Canal Road and I could see her. But then I met Craig and he told me that Cathy was going over to talk to her. I'd already been warned that Cathy was a threat. Then we saw Cam fall and I went in to pull her out."

Everyone fell quiet and I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the wall. I could hear the others whispering and talking, clarifying details. I tuned it out, trying to wrap my head around the fact that the Circle had once again tried to kill me. No, they hadn't tried to kill me. They'd _warned_ me that they were coming. It was all perfectly timed and I'd walked into a trap. Even if I hadn't been on that cliff, Cathy would've still detonated the poison ball inside me. I would still be in this condition. And if I hadn't finished that beer, Craig would've been poisoned, and I'd still be warned of the game they were playing.

"What happens next?" I whispered and everyone turned to look at me.

"You need to rest, Cammie. Take it easy. The whole point of being on suspension -" Joe started but I sat up, ignoring the pain.

"That's it, isn't it? I'm on suspension. I haven't done anything. But I still got into this. Even if I hadn't followed Zach the previous day, Cathy would've still slipped poison into my food and drinks. It didn't matter. It doesn't matter. My own roommate was a double agent. We can't trust anyone."

"We know that -"

"But that's not it," I said. Everyone looked at me expectantly, though I knew everyone had already figured it out.

"Catherine knew Mom would find that trail of blood. We're all Gallagher Girls. We're all trained the same. She knew it was a matter of time. And then when everyone was alerted of Josh's death, the moles in the CIA must've taken it back to the Circle that the wheels were turning. Dillon's confession was obvious. They knew we could get it out of him - that's why they picked a civilian. Then Cathy had orders to reveal herself in time to warn me. And they knew she'd die too because she wasn't supposed to be taken in for questioning. It's a warning - but for what? The Circle has better things to do then sit and chase me around the world. They're too many of them with problems of their own to play cat and mouse with me."

"Yes, but Cathy was working with _Catherine. _She does have time to do that," Abby pointed out. "She lives off that stuff."

"But she could've easily made the poison lethal. I would've died before I even hit the water. They want me dead - and Catherine would've had her revenge if her own sister did it."

"What are you saying?" Grant asked.

"I wish I knew," I groaned, pressing my hand to my temple. "Something isn't right. They're keeping me alive again, for _something. _Either it really is a game. Or it's something else. Something that happened that summer which they need me again for."

"They won't get to you again," Townsend pointed out and I nodded. I almost believed him. But I needed to know what it was that they needed of me.

I needed Liz, I suddenly realized. She was the one who I relied on most to find me a decent antidote to any medicine. I had to talk to Liz. I made a mental note to contact her as soon as I got out of here. I noticed everyone leave, except for Zach, Grant and Townsend. It was if we were back to the original Georgetown team. Townsend turned to me, and I realized I was being debriefed after what happened on the cliff yesterday evening.

"Do you know what you're going to say?"

I nodded.

"I was hanging out with Carrie. There was a bandit or something, probably a small time thief, who was escaping via the woods to keep out of public eye. He panicked when he saw us, thinking we'd go to the cops. We tried to fight him. It happened so fast. He shot Carrie. I tried to get to him, but he pushed me off the cliff. I don't remember his face, because I was panicking too much."

He sighed, and then nodded before leaving. Grant tossed lens cases to both of us, and I groaned. Turns out my gorgeous blue eyes had been damaged after being tossed around in the river. I put them in, wincing as I lifted my arm to do so. Blinking to set them in place, I watched Zach do the same. He threw away the boxes, then held out his hand and pulled me up. I winced as he put an arm around me and led me back to Henle Hall.

"You look terrible," he whispered in my ear.

"Always the charmer," I rolled my eyes.

"No, you're supposed to look terrible," he reminded me, before Grant opened the door to my apartment.

"Lauren!" came a shriek and I couldn't have been more surprised to realize it was from Alex. She looked like a mess, tears in her eyes as she quickly hurried to us. She looked like she was scared that I was too fragile. _She _thought I was too fragile. The girl who called me Karate Kid. She simply reached out and took my hand, squeezing it.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered. Behind her, Dayna hurried over, her eyes equally teary. I didn't understand why they were all crying when I was fine. Then I realized they thought the person who'd pushed me had killed their friend Carrie. They didn't know she was a terrorist. They didn't know she was the one who'd done this. They were just mourning their friend. And I couldn't take that from them - not when, a few weeks ago, I'd been mourning mine. If I'd been made to believe Josh was a bad person after he was killed, I'd be devastated. It was a good thing that they didn't know.

I turned to look around and saw Aaryan and Elaine sitting on the couch. Both had their heads bowed down, looking shocked (though Elaine looked like she was trying to figure something out). They weren't crying though. And then there was Craig. He was looking right at me, as if he was seeing a ghost. He stood up and walked up to me, not saying a word. He simply took my hand and placed the bracelet in it.

"Craig," I whispered.

"I held onto it," he said in a low voice. "You told me to - that's the last thing you - you told me to hold onto it. So, I did. It was the only thing I had to hold onto." I squeezed the bracelet between my fingers, the metal digging into my skin. I smiled at him, before groaning low again.

"Guys, the doctors said she needs to sleep," Grant said and they all moved, letting Zach lead me to my room. He closed the door behind us, helping me into bed. I moved aside the covers, patting the spot beside me. He looked hesitant before getting in, wrapping his arms around me. I put the bracelet on top of his chest. His hand came up to trace the carvings.

"She gave me this before she left Blackthorne," he whispered softly. "She was saying goodbye, and she told me her mother gave it to her. It was a family heirloom. She said that she didn't have anyone to pass it onto, so she thought I should have it since she thought of me as a kid brother. She said, it was about time that some other family got to have it. I guess she _was_ passing it down, in some twisted way."

He moved to throw it in the trash, but I took it back.

"I don't take kindly to people throwing my gifts in the trashcan."

He looked down at me.

"That's - that _thing _is a reminder of her and that entire messed up family. We can get another tracker. Why would you?"

"You're part of that family. It's not all that shabby. Because you gave it to me. Because it's _your _heirloom and you own it. Plus, it's proved to be incredibly useful."

"Still not trusting me?" he whispered.

"No," I said, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. "Just reminding you that it's a part of a whole." I tapped his chain.

"You're -"

"Would you throw away the chain if you found out that some hag of an aunt of mine had been the previous owner? Would you, if I'd had it for a long time and wanted to gift it to you?"

He didn't say anything, which was an answer enough. I took it and wrapped it around me wrist, re clasping it. I found myself wondering how Craig had handled it when it had started buzzing and going red. I had to remind myself to ask him that. Zach seemed to notice my expression because he started speaking again.

"He was very scared...Craig, I mean. He'd been there with...Hugh, to see you fall. He was beyond terrified, especially when Hugh dove in to bring you up. He was the one who ran back to call the medics and the cops."

"Medics and cops? But they didn't show up. I was with you guys."

"That's because we're in line with the emergency operators. Townsend stepped in and told them they were the ones handling it, and took over."

I nodded, humming in relief and pulling myself closer to him. He rested his chin on my head, his arms tightening around me. He was scared to let go.

"I'm fine," I reminded him. "I'm here. I'm okay."

"But you could've not been. I was there on that cliff. I was there just a few hundred feet away. I should've found a way to - "

"You couldn't have."

"I was so scared. I thought...I thought I'd lost you forever. And all I could think about was that the last conversation we'd had was -"

I shushed him, snuggling closer. He'd said Craig was scared and terrified seeing me fall. I could only begin to imagine what Zach must've felt like. But I knew, didn't I? He felt exactly like how I felt when we'd been in the tombs and he'd thrown himself on those bombs. And that was the worst feeling to have when you had someone to love.

"I wouldn't let you go. After you passed out, I wouldn't let you go even when everyone got there. Craig kept telling me to let them take you but I couldn't."

"How did you?"

"Townsend," he admitted. "He had to pretend to not know me, since he was acting like a cop for the sake of civilian audience. But he snapped me out of it. He said, _Son, we've got her. She's going to be alright. _I think that's the first time he's called me that. It was probably because he couldn't take my name."

"I think," I said. "It's because he was worried about you and was trying to get through to you."

Zach didn't say anything to that and I didn't add anything. There was nothing to add. He cleared his throat and I looked up, noticing that something else was still troubling him. Something he was dying to say.

"What?"

"At the diner...with Craig...I -"

I remembered the kiss on the cheek and chuckled. Of all the things to be bothering him, he was worrying about that. I had to remind myself that when I'd come home that summer, I'd been worrying about Zach and Bex too, aside from the million other worries I should've been having.

"That was Craig trying to make you jealous so you'd come over and talk to me."

Zach's expression was skeptical but I laughed again. Then, I simply let him hold me close, as I drifted off to sleep, exhaustion taking over.

* * *

I woke up to find Zach gone. The empty spot on the bed made me shoot up, sending pain crawling over my body again. Then I realized that he must've just gone back to his own dorm. I rubbed my eyes, catching the time on the alarm clock over my bed. It was three in the morning and I yawned just staring at it. But try as I could, I couldn't fall asleep. All sorts of thoughts crossed my mind. What did the Circle want? What did they want with me? Was it possible that there was yet another thing hidden in my memories and it wasn't the subconscious kind? It was the chemically suppressed kind?

I had to know. I realized that Liz was the only other person who would be awake at this time, since it was around midnight for her. So, I grabbed my laptop from the desk, sitting stiffly on the chair. Luckily, I didn't need any sort of clearance to send a simple encoded email. She responded with an encoded phone number. I grabbed the cell phone I'd been given before starting college, grateful that it still had the untraceable chip inside it.

The phone rang twice before she picked it up.

"Hi, Bookworm," I said.

"Hey, Chameleon. How come you're up so early? Big test?"

Only she would hold onto the hope of that being true. I wanted to tell her my back was killing me but Zach's warning rang in my head. None of them knew what Cathy had done to me. I wasn't allowed to say so.

"Slept in the afternoon," I said. "I need your help."

"With what?" she sounded wary.

"I've been thinking about what...Doc Oc did to my brain with the serum. I've realized that it must be totally flushed from my system by now. So why is it still working?"

"It must've attacked one of the neurotransmitters in your head, causing them to -"

"Simple version."

"It created a sort of detour in your head. Chemicals and electric shocks are what register memories in our brains. And they're what makes us recall them. If he - rerouted them to keep moving in circles without getting them to go where they have to, then you'd be unable to remember."

"Is there a way to...bring them back on track?"

"Chameleon..." she trailed off. I knew she knew a way to do it. The only reason she hadn't sat to create an antidote was because my mother had stressed that whatever I remembered could be dangerous to me and the people around me. I could tell she didn't want to do it, even though we weren't in school anymore. The Circle was still out there. I could still be a target.

"They can't come for me if they don't know I remember," I reminded her. "It'll be just between you and me."

She hesitated.

"Please," I said, sounding desperate. I didn't know how much of it was acting and how much of it was real. "Bookworm, please. I can't go on like this, forever wondering. If anything, that's what'll make me go crazy."

"I'll see what I can do."

I was equally glad and impatient when I didn't receive word from Liz for the next few days. Either she was ignoring me, or she was working on it. I was hoping it was the second one since the first one didn't seem like her at all. Moreover, I was glad that by the time she came through, the poison and antidotes would both be out of my system. I didn't need things going more haywire with my body. I simply stayed in my room, confined to bed and my laptop. It actually turned out to be nicer than I thought. My friends kept going in and out with food. Zach brought over DVDs for us to sit in bed and watch. Whenever everyone hung out, they crowded my room to do it so I didn't feel left out.

The only moment of awkwardness had been when they'd all apologized that I couldn't get up to go to Carrie's funeral. I hadn't wanted to go. I couldn't bear to. But I'd forced Grant to go, to see it through. He'd come back and informed me that Townsend had been present at it, too. He'd made sure it was an open casket service and then stayed till a few hours after she was buried to ensure that she didn't pull a stunt like Catherine. For all we knew, they'd gone all Romeo and Juliet and given her some kind of chemical concoction to fake her death too. But that hadn't happened. Cathy really was gone.

It was two days later that I woke up, sitting straight. Something must've woken me up and I turned to the digital clock again. The time said it was six. But it was the date that got to me. It was my birthday. And I couldn't even celebrate it since Lauren had a different birthday. My phone beeped and I saw that I'd received an email. It was from Liz, and it was just another encoded number, different from the last one. I quickly dialed it.

"Bookworm, did you -"

"Happy Birthday, Chameleon. No longer a teenager, I see. How does being twenty feel?"

"No different than yesterday. I'll probably feel twenty when I'm a few weeks from twenty one."

"You're starting to sound like a Psych student."

"I _am _a Psych student. Look, did you -"

"Follow the yellow brick road, Dorothy."

Then she hung up. I stared at my phone. Well, that was unexpected. This was the second Dorothy reference since the ruby slipper exhibit. We didn't use the same codes twice, so I immediately knew what she was talking about. It was a dead drop. I got out of bed, stretching and groaning as my joints popped. I was in no way back to my old self, but at least I wasn't in pain with every movement. I changed my clothes and left the dorms, quietly closing the door behind me so as to not wake anybody up. Realizing that my tracker would probably set off Grant and Zach, I sent them a text saying: _all fine. bookworm sent a gift._

I walked out of the university gates, walking along Canal Road till I reached the Key Bridge. Traffic was already heavy, so I simply walked around it, leaning against the start of the bridge. The sun was shining bright and the cold air wrapped around me, making me shiver. I was ready for winter to get over already. I stayed there for fifteen minutes, until something happened. A cyclist sped across the bridge, cutting off a car making a turn. The car screeched to a halt and the cyclist tumbled over. He managed to get up, but his cycle had tipped over. The driver cursed him, continuing on his way. The cyclist shouted back an insult before righting his bike again.

"Excuse me," I called out, picking up a small envelope that had fallen along with his folded up jacket. "You dropped this."

"It's just bills. Feel free to toss it over the bridge, like that ass just tossed me," he said, looking angry and peddling off.

"I'm not your maid!" I called out after him, sounding irritated. Then, I shrugged, moving to drop the envelope into the trashcan. Once I was sure that people around me had thought I'd thrown it, I slipped it into my pocket and headed back to the dorms. I was already tired and I'd only been standing there. I ran into Zach, about five seconds later. He raised his eyebrows at me, but kept a straight face. He simply pretended I'd been waiting for him, putting an arm around my shoulder and walking me back.

"You woke me up, thanks," he whispered, kissing the top of my head. He didn't sound agitated about it.

"What was that biker being an ass for?" he asked.

"I was just following the yellow brick road," I shrugged. He raised his eyebrows higher before pulling me close. We walked back into the campus, heading straight for the dorms again. It was a Saturday, after all.

He followed me into the apartment, where everyone was still asleep. We walked quietly to my room and shut the door behind us. He pulled me close before I could examine the envelope and kissed me. Surprised, I put my arms around him and kissed him back. Momentarily, I forgot all about my pain. He simply held me tight, kissing me until our breaths ran out.

"Happy Birthday, kid," he whispered. I swatted his chest.

"Four months difference. That's _it. _Four months."

He laughed and I pulled him in for another kiss. He groaned, kissing me back. His kisses got more desperate and I hissed as he bit my lower lip. My hands were running up and down his back and I didn't hesitate to slip them under his shirt. He pulled away quickly, making a tutting noise.

"No, your body's too weak. None of that funny stuff, miss. Keep your hands where I can see them," he scolded. I pouted.

"But it's my birthday."

"I don't care," he said. I made an irritated face, less to do with not getting some fun time and more to do with still being weak. He pulled me close, kissing my cheek and then whispering to me _exactly _what he'd do to me once I was back to being fit and healthy.

"Zach!" I whisper-yelled, smacking his shoulder, blushing furiously.

He grinned, sitting on my bed. I took off my jacket, taking out the envelope and sitting beside him. He nodded, suddenly understanding the _Oz_ reference. I opened it quickly and examined the contents. There was a small chip and another small envelope. I set the second packet aside, reaching for my laptop. Zach passed it to me, looking curious. I put in the chip, and a small video popped up.

I felt a smile break across my face, as I realized that it was a little video log collaboration from all my friends and family, wishing me a happy birthday. Bex and her family (although her parents were in London, while Bex was in America doing who knows what). There was one from Liz, and from Jonas who was back in Tokyo. There were messages from my mom and Abby, Joe and even Townsend (although it was just a '_Many happy returns of the day, good luck'_ and then blank). My grandparents wished me too, although that one was a bit long since they were figuring out the camera. They probably thought it was going on YouTube like all the normal kids did it. As soon as the video shut itself, I pulled out the chip. There must've been a sensor on it because it sparked and then fizzled, destroying itself. I tossed it in the trash.

"What's in the other packet?" Zach asked. I sighed, opening it and dropping the contents on my lap. A small box fell out, with a letter. I opened the folded piece of paper and in Liz's neat handwriting, it said: _Might cause some nausea and dizziness. 0.00012% chances of brain damage._

Well, that was very reassuring. But it was completely Liz, to rattle off all the side effects even if they were a statistical anomaly. I opened the box and in a protective case lay a syringe. It held a liquid which looked like mercury - although I was sure Liz wasn't intent on poisoning me.

"What's that?" whispered Zach. "What're you up to?"

No secrets. Not the ones we didn't have to keep.

"It's an antidote to the chemical Dr. Steve used to make me forget that summer I ran away."

Zach turned on the bed, looking angry.

"No. No way."

"It's _my _choice."

"Listen to me," he said, putting his hand on my cheek. "Those are things which you don't want to remember."

"You don't know that."

"I _do _know that. There's a reason people who go through all that suffer from severe PTSD. It's trauma. Even without it, you were a mess after you came back."

"That's because I was being brainwashed!"

"I'm not talking about losing time or what happened with the song, or the roof. I'm talking about the nightmares and the sleep walking -"

"This could tell me why they're after me. Why they won't kill me already. I might know something."

"Cam -" his voice dropped to a whisper. "You don't want to do this."

"I do," I reassured him.

"There are people out there who might try to grab you again if they think you know. Or another cell which might try to kill you if you remember."

"They don't know that I know. This isn't Dr. Steve anymore. It's you and me and Liz. Nobody else knows."

He frowned, shaking his head. His hand came up to run through his hair.

"I don't like this."

"You don't have to. But this is _my _choice."

He didn't say anything, simply watching me. I was surprised he didn't grab it from me and crush it under his foot. But I knew that our trust was freshly back on all clear track, and it was on shaky ground. I took the syringe, uncapping it. I didn't worry about local anesthetics. I simply held it in my hand.

"You're going to stab your eye out with that. Give it here," he said, taking it from me. I wanted to tell him that I knew how to give an injection, but he said nothing. He just took my arm, running his fingers over the crease of my elbow until he found a vein to tap. Then he took the injection, getting rid of any air bubbles. The way he was looking at the syringe made me think that, in another life, he'd have made a hot doctor.

Then he inserted the needle into my skin, and I forgot all about seriously unmentionable doctor scenarios which were dragging my mind to the gutter. I felt the chemical enter my system - or I imagined it to, anyway - until the syringe was empty. Zach slowly pulled it out, putting it back in the box and pocketing it, probably to dispose it off responsibly. I waited for any of the side effects to magically kick in but nothing happened.

"No what?" Zach asked. "We wait?"

"Now we wait."


	10. ten

**Okay so my summer break is over (boo D:) which is sad because college classes start today. But knowing how much muse I have for this story, I'll probably continue writing between breaks during classes. But this is like a heads up that I'll probably update once in 2-3 days from now on, as opposed to every 12/15 hours. I'll still take the same amount of time to write but I always thoroughly proof read so that I'm certain that the chapter is how I want it to be. Don't worry, my beautiful readers :) You'll still get frequent updates though!**

**Now some more (exciting?) news: I've grown incredibly attached to most of the characters in this story, canon and OCs. So, I've decided that once I'm done writing the last chapter and wrapping it up, I want to post little outtakes (where I write a certain scene from the eyes of another character) or deleted scenes (stuff which Cammie wasn't present for). I've already got a couple of outtakes in mind (such as Grant and Craig's view of what happened on the cliff + Zach's perspective of it; what happened with Cathy + Josh and Dillon on that night; Grant and Bex in London etc.), not to mention we'll get even more action packed scenes which I'll try and imagine from the other characters' eyes. So if you guys want to send me prompts for deleted scenes and outtakes, feel free to do that as the story progresses! I'm already on Chapter 10 now, and if I don't get any other wild ideas, it should wrap up by Chapter 15/16 ^_^. **

**I'm literally so happy with the response I've gotten to this, and I can't wait to hear more! **

**- Brooke xx**

**Chapter Rating: T**

**Chapter Warning: Mentions of torture.**

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

_Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. _

_Tiny scraping particles fell from the end of the twisted metal scratching against the stone. My hands shook, sending splatters of blood all over the bed sheet. But I didn't stop._

_Scratch. Scratch. Scratch._

_C. A. M._

_Cameron Ann Morgan._

_Scratch._

* * *

I shot up, sweat dripping down my temple, my hands quickly running over my arms. I bit my lip so as to not cry out in pain as the open wounds tingled. Then I realized what was happening. I blinked hard, looking down at my arms. There was nothing there. It was over. There was no pain. It was over.

Three days. It had been three days since I'd injected myself with the antidote. Three days of nightmares. Three days of memories assaulting my mind. Three days of terror. Three days of living in hell, all over again. My legs were shaking as I pulled myself out of bed. It was almost two in the morning. I wasn't really thinking while I was moving. It was like those moments when you start to wander but you somehow end up in a place your subconscious wanted to take you. So, I didn't _really _remember opening the door to my room. Or walking out of the apartment. I didn't remember kneeling down in front of Craig's door and pulling a bobby pin out of my hair. I didn't remember shutting the door behind me and walking to Zach's room. I just remembered standing over his bed, watching him sleep peacefully.

His chest rose and fell softly, the wind whistling like a whisper as he snored. He was wearing a tank top, the blankets drawn up to his chest. He slept on his stomach, his head half buried in his pillow, his hair sticking up in five different directions. I knelt down so that I could softly stroke the messy locks. They felt drier than usual, thanks to the hair dye. Macey would've screamed '_conditioner!'_

His eyes flew open as soon as I touched him, his alert expression falling into a lazy one as he noticed me. The first night when I'd shown up, he'd panicked and asked me twenty different questions ('Are you alright?' 'Do you need a doctor?' 'Should I call Liz?' 'Should I call your mom?' 'Should I call my dad?' 'Is it PMS?' 'Why are you throwing things at me?') before holding me close and letting me drift asleep. Now, he didn't say or ask anything. He simply shuffled over, making space for me. I curled up, pressing my face into the pillow which smelled like him. His arms went around my waist, pressing my back to his chest.

"Hey, Gallagher Girl," he whispered in my ear.

* * *

_"Tell me something," a masculine voice whispered next to my ear. I tilted my head away but he held it in place, his fingers gripping my hair. My entire body was shaking despite my best effort to not let it happen. He was dead. He was dead. My dad was dead. He was dead. He was buried here. He was dead. He was dead._

_I kept chanting it under my breath._

_"Shut up."_

_"He's dead. He's dead. He's dead."_

_"I said, shut up," the man snapped, smacking me hard. I felt my teeth tear the inside of my cheek, making me spit blood. I glared at him, sweat dripping through my short black hair, falling in a curtain around my face._

_"Now," he continued. "Where were we? Oh, right. Tell me something, Cameron. Just for conversation's sake. How would_ you _start World War III?_"

_"What?" I snapped, my throat hoarse. Don't let them see you cry. Don't let them see you cry. But tears still welled in my eyes. They still ran down my cheeks. I still screamed when he ran the knife across my arm._

_"I asked, how would you start World War III?"_

_"I don't know - I don't know. I -" I'm not a mastermind. I don't know how to start wars. I'm supposed to stop that kind of stuff. I don't know. I don't know. Stop. Make it stop. It hurts. I don't know. I screamed again as the knife went deeper._

_"I swear, I don't know. I don't know how I'd start a war," I said._

_He nodded, as if he accepted the answer. Then he drove the knife into my thigh, right to the hilt. I screamed at the top of my voice, my head thrown back. Black spots entered my vision as sharp, hot pain seared from my toes, to my hips, right up to my chest. I shouted, stomping my legs despite trying to hold still._

_Oh god, it hurt. Everything hurt. Help me, somebody, oh God, it hurts._

_"Oh god, it hurts. God -" I whispered._

_"What?"_

_"God. Religion. Faith. I'd attack faith. I'd attack the faith of millions. I'd find the largest religion - and I'd destroy one of its pillars."_

_He looked a little impressed, but in the way a parent is impressed with a child's messy stick figure drawing._

_"Clever. I expected your tactics to involve emotions and faith. Luckily, we've got a better plan. Because, fortunately or unfortunately, we live in a capitalist world. And sometimes people break treaties to keep the money rolling in."_

_I didn't understand a word of what he was saying. All I could think about was the pain. He stood up, leaving the knife in my leg._

_"You'll thank me for not pulling that out. It'll stop you from bleeding to death," he laughed. Then he slammed the door._

_I started crying, screaming as every sob made my leg jostle and shift the knife. _

_Oh god, someone get me out of here. Dad, get me out of here._

_Hope. I had to cling to it. It was the only thing that had stopped me from mourning my father all these years._

_Now it was the only thing that would keep me alive._

_I had to have it._

* * *

"Cammie," Zach whisper-yelled, pinning my hands to the mattress, his legs straddling my waist. My fingers were clawing at his wrists. No. I had to have hope. I had to have it. They were going to leave me here to die. I was going to die. Like my Dad. Maybe they'd bury me beside him.

"Cammie, snap out of it."

"I'm going to die. I'm going to die," I whispered and Zach yanked me upwards, hugging me to his chest. I fought, scratching his back and twisting under his hold, but he didn't let go. He kept holding me until my struggles died down and I came back to the present. When he rolled off me, falling beside me, I had tears in my eyes. I felt the sobs bubble up in my chest, pain making my lungs heave. I coughed hard as I tried to hold them back and Zach pulled me close. He shushed softly in my ear, pushing back my hair, whispering apologies over and over to me as I cried.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry they hurt you. I'm so sorry," he said over and over again. I didn't find an appropriate reply, too caught up in dealing with the images which were wreaking havoc in my head.

"I'm sorry they hurt me too," I sobbed.

"Cammie, I wish I could make it go away," he whispered. "I wish I could do anything to make it go away."

"I don't know anything," I mumbled. "I don't know. Please, stop hurting me. I don't know."

"Cam?"

But I was asleep before he got the next word out.

* * *

_"Randy, I think that's enough," said a voice from behind me. I tried to open my eyes, struggling to make my eyelids pry apart. The moment they did, blood and sweat trailed into them. I quickly shut my eyes. My neck hurt as if I'd been sleeping with my head tilted over the back of a chair. My wrists felt raw with rope burn. _

_"But it's so much _fun, _Dane," Randy said. I could feel the tip of something cold and sharp running down my cheek. I hissed. He increased the pressure and I felt a small trickle of something warm.__  
_

_"Randy!" the Dane guy snapped, and the sharp object left my skin. "You heard what the orders said. She has to _heal. _Not get more hurt."_

_"Why are you always such a damn buzzkill, huh?" Randy shouted. There was the noise of something being thrown away and a scuffle. There was a warm hand slapping my cheek and I leaned away. It slapped my face until I opened my eyes. Bright light shone, making everything painful._

_"Cameron," said a voice and I turned to look at the Dane guy. His eyes were wide and his hair was falling in his face. Was it really purple and pink? Or were there dark spots in my vision? Why was his face going in and out of focus? I felt the ropes being undone from around my hands and I lunged on instinct. He quickly threw me off and I staggered on my feet. _

_Dizziness. Sharp dizziness took over my head and I moaned in pain._

_"Cameron," he said. "Run."_

_"What?"_

_"You have to run."_

_"It's - trap. You're -"_

_"No. I mean it. This isn't a trap. You need to run."_

_"I need to run?"_

_"Yes, dammit. Run. RUN!"_

* * *

"Run, Dayna! Run!" someone shouted as I woke up, gasping. There were sounds of gunshots. I was moving on autopilot, towards the voices scurrying around outside my bedroom door. But my body felt so weak. Why was everyone running? What happened?

But they wanted us to run.

Dane. Dane. Dane. I could only remember his voice telling me to run. What was his face like? I couldn't remember. I stumbled over my desk chair, preparing myself for any attack. I threw open the door, shuffling outside.

But there was no attack. Nobody was screaming and crying. There was no blood.

"What happened?" I croaked, looking at everybody. They were all laughing, huddled around Craig's laptop. Him and Dayna had two controllers in their hand as they continued playing whatever video game they were playing. Nobody noticed me.

"Run, Dayna!" Craig shouted. "Okay, shoot. X, press X. That's it - oh hey, Lauren," he said, barely looking up at me.

"You're up," Alex noted. She had been much nicer to me since the entire incident with Cathy/Carrie and I was more than relieved. She was looking at me with worry as I leaned against the wall, letting my head fall back.

"Hey," Grant said, coming up beside me. He put a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

More gunshots rang in the game. The sound of bullets raining everywhere. Was that a rifle hammer being cocked? I knew how to handle a rifle, didn't I? Where did I learn that? I didn't know.

_I don't know. I don't know anything. Stop. Stop._

"I heard -" I whispered. "I heard a gunshot. And I thought - I -I'm going back to bed."

I pressed my hands to my face and Alex shot off the couch, throwing her book at Craig.

"I _told _you not to play that here. Those noises are terrifying without context."

Everyone in the room looked guilty, as if they expected me to have a meltdown. To relive Cathy's death. But I wasn't reliving her death. I was reliving something of a very different quality. I wasn't supposed to have meltdowns. I was an agent. I was an agent, I had to get used to this. I wasn't supposed to have a meltdown. Lauren could have a meltdown but I wasn't Lauren. I was Cammie. I was the chameleon nobody recognized.

I couldn't even recognize myself.

"Why don't we get you back to bed?" asked Grant, gently taking my arm and steering me back in the direction of my room.

"Class, I have to get to - Mr. Solomon will be upset if - "

"No, you don't. Classes are over for the day."

"But it's only six in the morning," I said.

Grant gave me a worried look.

"No. It's six in the _evening._ You slept the whole day. Are you sure you're not getting sick?" he asked, taking me back to my bed. He put a hand on my cheek, as if checking for temperature. I pulled away, shaking my head, mumbling to myself.

"They let me go."

"What's that?" Grant asked, shutting the room door so nobody would overhear.

"They let me go. Why did they let me go?"

"So that they could interrogate you from within Gallagher. With Steve, remember?"

"They let me go. They told me to run. I ran. But they kept following me. I had to jump. The river was so cold."

"I know. I know. Hey. Listen to me -"

"But we were in Rome. And I woke up in Austria. It was cold. There were voices -"

"Hey!"

I was aware that I was getting hysterical. My hands were clawing at my face, clutching at the roots of my hair. My voice was shaking. Everything was a blur. I was squeaking, or screaming, or whispering. Everything hurt. I had to run. I had to run. I tried to, but Grant stopped me. He grabbed my waist and pulled me back towards the bed but I struggled.

"Hey, listen to me," he whispered harshly, shaking me hard. But I didn't listen.

I had to run. I had to run.

"I have to run -"

I had to run.

A sharp pain swiped across my cheek, making me stop cold in my tracks. I lost all my energy, sitting down on the bed, as Grant knelt in front of me.

"You slapped me," I whispered, bringing my hand up to my cheek.

"I know. I'm so, so sorry. But I had to snap you out of it."

He looked immensely guilty, more so when tears stung my eyes. Before I knew it, I was keeling over and he was catching me, pulling me into a tight hug, as if I'd try to run again. I was shivering even though my room was heated. I felt like I was in a river again, being thrown onto a rocky bank in the Alps. Grant whispered over and over again that I wouldn't have to run but I kept shaking my head.

"I need Bex -" I whispered and he continued shushing me.

"Bex is not here, I'm sorry." He sounded pretty apologetic about that fact.

"No, you can't bring her here. Don't bring Bex. They'll kill her. They'll hurt all of them. That's why I have to leave the school."

"Shh. It's over."

"He was going to kill Bex. So, I killed him. I didn't mean to."

"I know. You're not a bad person."

"Will you get me Zach?" I asked, my voice cracking. "They won't kill him, not right away. Just for five minutes."

"I can get him if you promise not to run away."

"I won't run away."

"Can I trust you?"

"It's true. It's true -" I mumbled, my eyes feeling heavy.

"What's true?" Grant asked, helping me lie down on the bed. He pulled up the covers.

"Everything. It's all true."

"What's true?" he asked again.

But I was already drifting into oblivion.

* * *

_"This way!" he shouted, and I quickly switched paths, confusing the people that were running behind us. We cut across alleys, and I thanked the fact that Rome was not like most grid shaped cities I'd grown up around. The roads were too winding for them to be able to cut us off right away. Cobbled stones made a pitter patter sound against the bottom of my boots. I quickly turned left, but strong hands yanked me towards the right._

_"This way. They'll come around that way. There's a road that cuts across. There's a parking garage there. We can get a car."_

_I followed him as the roads got narrower and our breaths became heavier. The summer breeze ruffled my hair, and I felt it on my neck. I wasn't used to the new hair just yet, but it felt good. It kept me from breaking into a sweat right away. _

_"Stop!" he shouted, and both of us ducked, pressing ourselves against opposite walls. Footsteps sounded from the mouth of the alleyway and then passed. We were both breathing deeply and he laughed._

_"I'm sorry I dragged you into this," I whispered. "You should've left me at the market. I told you to!"_

_"Hey. I told you I'd help you, right?"_

_"From Vienna till Rome! We didn't have a deal after that."_

_"So? Are you complaining because you're getting more help?"_

_"This isn't about help. Those people we're running from? They're dangerous!"_

_"You think I didn't know that? I could tell the moment I met you again and your hair was all changed and shit."_

_"Why are you doing this?"_

_"Because I've got nothing to lose."_

_We both pressed ourselves against the wall again and I felt him staring at me. I patted down my hair, consciously._

_"Hey, Cammie?" he asked, and I felt his voice shake a little. I sighed. I knew he wasn't cut out for this. He was just a civilian. Just someone I'd hitched a ride with._

_"Yeah, Dane?"_

_"I'm really sorry."_

_"For wha -" _

_And then everything went dark._

* * *

"It's Rome!" I snapped, shooting off the bed, waking up completely coherent for the first time in four days. It took me a second to realize I wasn't in my room. The walls were smooth and stone like, the bed was too hard. For a second, I panicked, before realizing that I was in the make shift infirmary where I'd been brought after I fell off the cliff. Beside me, Zach was sitting. He had a hard look in his eyes as he glared at me.

"What?" I asked, frowning. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Can you imagine, for even _one _second, how I felt when Grant called me and said you kept saying you have to _run_?"

"I was half asleep! I wasn't trying to run away again."

"Well, then I guess we're _really _lucky you woke up when everyone else was awake! For all I knew you could've run right into the middle of the road!"

"Dammit, Zach!" I snapped, getting off the bed.

"No, you don't _get it _do you? I knew this was going to be hard for you, remembering all those things. But I didn't think we'd be back to sleep walking and you doing things you don't remember! I _told _you that you didn't want to remember. We all still wake up every morning wondering if we'll ever see you again. You think we keep secrets from you because you can't handle it? No! You're one of the finest agents we have. We _know _you can handle it and that's why we keep it from you. Because you'll go in there on your own! Because you'll run again! Because you'll stop an entire damn war on your own but all we'll get back is bits and pieces of you!"

"This is bigger than me! Sometimes we have to make sacrifices, even if it means ourselves!"

"Not you," he snapped, and his eyes held something dangerous. "I swear, I will readily sacrifice a hundred people before I even think about sacrificing you."

He truly sounded like an assassin; like the child of a terrorist. But I didn't say this. Instead I snapped back.

"That's not your call to make! You think you have it hard? Here's a newsflash: every single moment you guys woke up that summer, you woke up in your own beds. You woke up with someone to bring you food, and hold your hand, and share your grief with you. You know where I woke up? I woke up in a different city, in rundown motels, without any idea if I was going to live to see another day. _You _woke up every morning wondering if you'd ever see me again, and guess what? Someone was there to lend you a shoulder to cry on and tell you it would be okay. When _I _woke up wondering if I'd ever see you again, you know what I got? I got stabs in the shoulder for letting myself fall asleep through the fun bits while they tore my body open, over and over again. And I'm the one who has to relive it."

I hadn't even realized I was shouting, or that my voice had cracked, or that my own fingers were scratching my arms where the scars were raised and faded. Zach stared at me, grabbing my hand and pulling me into a crushing hug. We were both shaking hard. _Torture. I was tortured. _It was a fact I'd always known. But now that I could remember exactly what it felt like, it was like going through it all over again. I clung to him, burying my face in his chest and he clung to me, pressing his face to my neck.

"I can't lose you, Cammie," he whispered. "You're all I have. You have your friends and your family and...I can't lose you. I'll be lost. I thought I went crazy when I couldn't find you. But if I ever have to watch you leave me again, I think that's when I'll go really crazy."

"You have friends and a family too. They're your friends too."

"I can't lose you."

"That won't happen," I said, pulling back. "Not again. Never again."

"Never again," he whispered, pulling back to him and kissing me. It was desperate. It was hungry. It felt like we were fighting each other to hold each other closer. He backed me into the wall, shoving aside the bedside table that was next to the cot, pinning me to the stone. It felt like we were in the tombs again, only it was a very different kind of fire which was burning between us. He pulled away, breathing hard and I took it as an opportunity to turn the tables. Flipping over, I slammed him into the wall, kissing him again and his hands crept up my shirt, leaving a blazing trail across the bare skin of my back.

"_Guys_!" Grant snapped behind us and I pulled away, breathing hard. My throat felt dry, and my cheeks felt hot. I backed up, grabbing the fallen bottle of water and taking a few gulps.

"Sorry," I replied. Grant was looking like he was trying not to laugh, but I continued. "For what happened at the apartment. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'm sorry I slapped you."

"You _slapped _her?" came Bex's voice from behind. Before Grant could say anything, she'd smacked him across the back of his head.

"Ow!" he exclaimed. "Hey, she was hysterical. I had to get her to listen to me."_  
_

"Bex!" I said, completely ignoring Grant. She came forward and threw her arms around me, squeezing me tight. Either I was imagining things, or Bex had miraculously grown stronger.

"Remind me to _kill _you for getting Liz to make you that antidote," she whispered in my ear. I was pretty grateful that I knew for certain she wasn't going to kill me, because her voice sounded very scary.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, pulling away.

"This one called me for backup. And since I was at Blackthorne anyway, I thought I'd drive down."

"You called for backup?" I hissed at Grant.

"Only the best kind," he shrugged, winking at Bex. She rolled her eyes.

"How many people know about this?" she asked, turning to me.

"I should be asking you that! As far as things were meant to go, only Zach and Liz were supposed to know. And, well, Grant since he was supposed to keep eyes on me."

"Well, unless these two have told anybody else, then that makes just five people. Five _trustworthy _people."

"I know but -"

"What did you mean when you said _It's Rome_?" asked Zach, walking up to us.

"That," I said. "Is what I was getting to. I remembered something and it's something that could be _huge._ But -"

"But if word gets out that you remembered, than you could be a target again."

"Exactly."

Bex and Grant exchanged a look, staring intently at each other. I looked at Zach, raising my eyebrows, but he just shrugged. Then I turned around to find them still looking at each other. Then they both nodded and turned back to me. I stared in awe, wondering if I'd missed an entire conversation.

"Okay, here's what we do," said Bex.

Two hours later, we were already packed into Grant's car and driving. I'd offered to drive but he'd firmly pointed out that he didn't know when I'd suddenly remember something and send us off the road. So, I sat in the passenger seat, watching us speed down the highway. Behind, Bex was on a bike, tailing us. For someone who couldn't manage to control a car, she certainly found it easier to balance such a heavy two wheeler.

Ahead of us, Zach drove his car. He'd offered to drive solo and up front because if anybody _did _try to attack us tonight, then they'd expect me to be in his car. As much as I hated that logic, I wasn't in a position to pull any sort of rank on them. I was an assignment. I had to follow orders. Back at Georgetown, everybody had been told that Zach and Grant were taking me down to my Uncle's house (yeah, the "sick" one) so that I could catch a break after Cathy's death. Nobody had refuted this, and I guess that was as good a cover as any.

"So, why has Bex been at Blackthorne?" I asked Grant. He kept his eyes on the road, but I could tell he was thinking of an easy way to tell me that I couldn't know. I decided to fill in the blanks for me.

"Let me guess, you're not supposed to tell me."

"It's not that," he said. "It's just - she's sort of acting as an...anti-scout?"

"A what?"

"You know how schools and colleges have scouts for jobs and stuff, right?" he asked. "Well, CIA suspected that Blackthorne would be receiving more undercover Circle scouts. After the huge blow they took when we were in senior year, it made sense they'd try to recruit more. Bex is sort of posing as a CIA scout, when really, she's keeping an eye on any suspicious activity."

"Does Gallagher have anti-scouts?"

"I'm sure it does. Nobody that I know of, personally speaking."

This was a comforting thought. Not just that Bex had taken it upon herself to weed out recruiters, but also the fact that there were people out there who were already trying to cut off the Circle at its roots. That, and for once, I'd been given some straight answer instead of prying for it.

"How much farther? We've been driving for a while."

"We were supposed to go to Langley, but after Bex told Townsend that this was need-to-know, he gave us the location of another safe house in Richmond," Grant said.

I nodded, leaning my head against the window. When I realized I was starting to fall asleep, I unbuckled the seatbelt and squeezed through the gap between the front seats.

"What are you doing?" Grant asked, making space for me to go without losing control of the car.

"Taking a nap without making you feel sleepy."

"I'm not one of those drivers who feel sleepy when someone sleeps in the passenger seat."

"I'm not taking that risk," I said, curling up on the back seat and closing my eyes.

Luckily for my own sanity, and Grant's car, I didn't have any nightmares. Nor did I attempt to walk out of a moving car. I had a light but dreamless sleep. Two hours after leaving Georgetown, we pulled up outside an apartment building. We found a place to park and walked to the front door.

"Who's buzzing us in?" I asked.

"Nobody," Bex responded. She searched through the list of names and she pressed the one that said _Harley. _There was a soft but clearly automated voice on the speaker.

"_The apartment which you are accessing is currently unoccupied."_

"It's Rebecca Baxter."

The door clicked open and we walked to the end of the hall where there was an elevator. There were floors marked from the basement level to the fifth floor, but she simply pulled out a key. Inserting it into a slot at the bottom, she twisted it. A silver pane over the emergency speakers slid aside, revealing a keypad. She entered a code and the elevator started descending. It went beyond the basement level, going at least two floors lower (there was no way to tell). Then the doors slid open, only to reveal a solid steel wall. A full body scanner ran our identities. Once we were cleared, it slid aside to reveal the safe house. It wasn't so much a house as it was one large room with some very basic amenities.

Abby sat on top of a table (yes on _top _of it) reading an article in the newspaper. In the kitchenette area, Townsend was making coffee. And he was wearing sweatpants. I didn't think I'd ever seen the two of them look more domestic than they did in that moment.

"Hey, Squirt," Abby said, putting down the paper. "Finally."

"Yes, finally," Townsend said, looking at us. "Remind us why we were woken up in the middle of the night? What was so important?"

I turned to look at Bex and she nodded, signaling that it was okay for me to tell them.

"I remembered something. Some _things, _actually, from the summer I was with the Circle."

Their response was immediate and predictable. Townsend gaped at me, immediately going into business mode and crossing his arms. Abby hopped off the table, looking a little angry.

"Cammie, we _told _you to not pick at those memories. That's stuff you don't want to remember."

"Oh, _trust me, _you want me to remember this."  


"What's going on?" Townsend asked.

So, I explained everything I remembered. I didn't get to the details of the torture - it was horrific enough remembering it, let alone recounting it - but I told them the bit about the civilian Dane they were using and the guy name Randy, plus the question they'd asked me about WW3 ideas. Of course, I still didn't remember what Dane and Randy looked like, but I could hear their voices in my head. I even narrated the answers I'd given them.

"So," Abby finally spoke. "You were with people of the splinter cell who _wanted _the war to happen. People who were working with Catherine as agents reporting to the inner circle. You think they're going to try to pull this thing? At the Vatican?"

"I think whatever they're going to pull, they're messing with me to create a distraction. They're threatening to kill me and throwing us around, but they're not doing anything _lethal. _They're just dangling a saw over our heads, hoping we'll keep our eyes trained on it long enough for them to do something else."

"You think you and Dayna being threatened is a distraction?" Bex asked.

"I think Dayna and I are very much in danger but not quite as much as we think we are. Especially not right now."

"But they know we know they want to start a war," Grant pointed out. "Why would they risk starting it all over again?"

"Because they're hoping we'll think they're laying low. They're counting on the fact that we'll assume they won't strike back so soon. Especially if they intend to use something they didn't plan to the last time."

"Didn't they, Miss Morgan?" Townsend spoke up. "I mean, they got this out of you before they started exploding anything near the Caspian Sea. Perhaps they'd planned it all along."

"As a backup?"

"No," Abby shook her head. "As a warning. A warning they didn't get to give last time because we were already hot on their trails. Because they hadn't counted on Catherine changing her mind and letting you run before they could take back more to the Inner Circle. Nor did they count on you making it out of that prison when you went to meet the ambassador. It was a warning they had to abandon to put their main plan into motion - with the ships and the bridge in Azerbaijan. Then the final phases with King Najeeb and Princess Amirah."

"So, blowing up the Vatican isn't back up? It's Phase One?" asked Bex.

"They're _terrorists. _They create terror. Worst case scenario, they kill at least a hundred civilians _within _the Vatican. Best case scenario, they take the Pope down too," said Zach._  
_

"Exactly," said Abby. "Either way, they shatter hope. Hope would be the one thing the entire world would bank on if a world war broke out. You shatter hope, and you shatter anything for people to hold onto. And then, you unleash a war on them. It's like an apocalypse."

"And what better way to shatter hope than to attack people's faith? To take down the centre of the world's largest religion?" I said. "Religion has led to messy wars before. This one would cause outbreak across the continents."

"Not to mention, other extremist groups would just add fuel to the fire. Either when fingers are pointed at them, or when they try to take advantage of the situation," Abby added.

"But why us?" Bex asked. "Why use Liz's tests? Why use Cammie's ideas? If they're a centuries old terrorist organization, then why ask teenage girls?"

"Not just teenage girls," Zach said. "Gallagher Girls. Because Gillian stopped them right in the start. They probably didn't know it was Liz's test when they got it from the database. After that, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out that if Liz was that smart, then something must've rubbed off on her friends too. And it was almost too easy to have Cammie also be Liz's best friend. Two birds, one stone. She was the wild card which both, the Inner Circle _and _my mom's splinter cell, needed."

"So, what do we do?" Grant asked. "We can't let people know Cam remembers. They'll target her again. Those who want to stop the war, will try to get her to tell them what the next step is. Those who want to start it, will try to kill her first."

"Anonymous tip to the Gendarmerie of Vatican and the Swiss Guard?" Bex suggested.

"Doesn't have to be anonymous. It'll hold more power if we warn them ourselves," I said.

"_Our_selves?" Townsend raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, you're kidding, right?" I laughed humorlessly. "You'll take me there when I'm a kid but you won't take me when I'm a full fledged agent?"

"On suspension! You're a target!"

"I'm a distraction! The quicker we get there, the quicker this will all be over," I pointed out. "I'm your best bet."

"Because you're so sure they're going to actually manage to get past the heavy guard of the Vatican? This is the _Vatican. _There's no way they'll manage to get in."

"No," I whispered. "I'm your best bet because they made me find a way in. And I showed them exactly how to do it."


	11. eleven

**You all are going to _hate _me (maybe) for a certain memory that comes up in this chapter, but I assure you it means nothing. I just kept rereading OSOT to get these scenes legit and the interaction between Preston, Mr. Winters and Cammie just kept buzzing in my head like there was so much more to the story than we know of. I guess an awful lot of bad stuff happened in that summer vacation :/ **

**Anyway, not much action in this chapter either. I figured I'd extend their break a little more before I thrust them into the action that'll lead up to the climax :P Thanks for the outtakes prompts, guys! I'll be sure to keep them lines up once I'm done with this story ^_^**

**Thanks for the loyal readership, and do leave reviews so I know how I'm doing!**

**- Brooke xx**

**Chapter Rating: Mild M (sexual situations)**

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Eleven**

"So, we're sure this is a safe place?" Grant whispered as we were ushered through the elaborate hallways of the US embassy in Rome. Bex turned to give him a pointed look and he shrugged.

"What? I'm just _saying, _this is where -"

"My father worked from?" came a familiar voice from across the room. I grinned and Preston grinned back. He looked older than before - probably because he'd been the one to look after his mom ever since his father died. I could still see the image in my head as Samuel Winters died before my eyes, telling me to protect his only son from the damage he'd done. Preston crossed the room, shaking hands with Zach, Grant, Abby and Townsend. He fist bumped Bex and then hugged me.

"It's good to see you," he told all of us. "When you said you needed help, I was half worried you'd be showing up on my doorstep with no backpack again."

"Har de har har," I grumbled, but with a smile. "We're just here for a little while."

"Is everything alright?" came a voice from around the corner and everyone tensed. The ambassador rounded the hallway, a pleasant and bright smile on her face. But her smile wasn't like her predecessor's. It was warm and welcoming. We'd all been surprised when it had come to our attention that the new ambassador at the Roman embassy would be another family member of Preston's. His family was _kind of_ infamous for their family business. But as it turned out, this one was his maternal aunt (since the Winters line ended with Preston), and she was more than willing (if not insistent) that Preston continue living at the embassy to finish his education. It wasn't just the matter of it being familial hospitality. It was the matter of the embassy still being a fortress. Nobody knew when the Inner Circle's followers might try to recruit Preston again (and something told me that if they managed to find him, he wouldn't have much of a choice in the matter).

"Yes, Aunt Richie," Preston said, smiling at Richelle Montgomery. The woman in question nodded again.

"If there's anything I, or any of us, can do for you, then please don't hesitate to ask. This is home away from home," she reminded us, before leaving us to ourselves.

"Aunt Richie?" Bex asked, her eyebrows raised. Preston shrugged.

"She's way too sweet for me to even try and call her by her full name. She's all about nicknames. She's a nice woman."

All of us were thinking it, but we didn't say it. _We thought your dad was a nice man, too. _But the newly appointed ambassador was well within the radar of all the intelligence agencies and there had been numerous, thorough background checks before even letting her onto the spot, let alone with Preston and his mother.

"So," Preston said, sitting down at a table. "No McHenry magic this time?"

"No," I sighed. "She's working."

"Oh, I know," he said, taking a remote and turning on the television. There was an Italian news channel covering some kind of expose about the USA President, and in the video footage, the Secret Service were seen milling around the first family. Macey was with them, looking as official and gorgeous as ever.

"I'm still not over how her parents reacted to her joining the Secret Service. I mean it isn't exactly discreet being the first family's body guard," Preston laughed.

"Which reaction are you talking about? The one where her mother physically threw a chair and broke her nail? Or the one where Macey _didn't _walk out and laid down the rules for them, for once?"

"Both," Preston nodded, staring at the screen with amazement. "Both."

Although I knew that Preston and Macey weren't in a relationship anymore (it was almost impossible for them to even be in touch), the two of them would always hold a soft spot for each other. They'd been through too much together for them to not. Macey (and us, by extension) had risked a lot to try and help him here, not to mention when we helped him out in Alaska. In return, he'd helped me and saved my life. That wasn't the kind of thing you could just brush off and move on from. I noticed Preston sigh a little before he turned off the television again.

"And Liz couldn't make it either? Or that other dude -" he waved, probably recognizing Grant from the time we'd been in Alaska, and wondering where Jonas was.

I shook my head. "They're working too."

"I guess you guys are lucky enough to already have so many familiar faces, huh?"

I nodded, a little sadly. I really did wish all my friends could be here.

"I don't know why you guys are here, and I'm assuming I can't know either," he said, standing up. "But we've swept the room for bugs and you won't be disturbed. Feel free to sweep the room again. And if you need anything, just dial the front desk from the phone. They'll send whatever you need."

Then he left us alone.

"He's still a sweet guy, even after everything," I mumbled after he left.

"A nerd," Bex nodded, and then tilted her head. "A _hot _nerd."

"Bex!" I slapped her arm, laughing.

"Don't look at me. You're the one who took his pants off."

"I don't," Townsend interjected, ignoring how red my face was. "Even want to know. Let's talk business, shall we?"

Everyone nodded, sitting down around the table. As Preston had offered, we'd first done a thorough bug sweep of the room before actually getting to the _down to business_ part. All of us were wide awake and alert, ready to avert this disaster that I'd planted into the head of the Circle. It seemed so cruel how they ran these vicious cycles. They use me to get ideas. Then cleaned my mind to put their own ideas into mine. Then they tried to get back more. It was horrific, to say the least.

"So, from this point onwards, we don't trust anyone other than our own team. We'll be working with the Vatican Police and the Swiss Guard, as well as other CIA and Six teams. But we all have had bad experience with moles. We don't know how deep they've already infiltrated the walls of the Vatican," Townsend said, throwing down maps of the Vatican on the table. Nobody said the unspoken truth: that _I _had told them that infiltrating the guard was their best bet.

"Would they use that passage?" Grant asked. "The one from the Assassin's Creed video game?"

It was a true testament to Craig's friendship, and the hours he spent gaming in our apartment, that I knew what Grant was talking about.

"Passetto di Borgo?" Abby asked. I had no idea if she knew about the game, but I think it was sort of obvious what tunnel Grant was talking about. It was the only one.

"It might be where they may try and escape from. It's a one way door. It's meant to get out of the Vatican, and not get in. The door works only one way and to get in, they'd have to infiltrate _very _deep so someone can open it from the other side. We can't count that they won't but...it seems unlikely," she continued.

"Still," Townsend said. "We'll be blocking off either ends of the passage as well as the walkway, right up to the Castel Sant'Angelo, just in case they do get ideas to use it."

"They'll be spread all over the place," Bex added. "They could be anybody. Tourists, security, even part of the clergy. It's just like them to poison something as holy as that."

"Very true," Townsend nodded. "Which is why we have these."

He threw down a stack of folders on the table, pushing them towards us. We all grabbed two or three, flipping through them. They were biodatas of various agents, including a voice analysis recording of each of them."

"Look at them. Recognize their voices, so you know who to take orders from when you're on comms. Learn their faces and learn to tell when they're in disguise. And don't trust another soul out there."

"How do we even know this is going to happen any time soon? How long are we supposed to stake out for?" Bex asked, putting down the folder she was reading.

"Because of Cathy," I whispered. "And I don't mean just the obvious death threat. I mean the fact that she revealed herself to me. She - and Catherine - must've known I'd figure out the Circle's plan if they gave me a reason to go digging into my memories. If there's one thing we can trust it's that Catherine wants to stop this war just as badly as we do."

"We need reliable eyes and ears inside the Vatican," Zach mumbled.

"I think I can help with that," Abby smiled before checking her watch. "And...now."

The door opened just as Bex, Zach and I stood up, gaping at the newest arrival to the US embassy. The woman smiled at us a familiar smile, waving her fingers as a greeting.

"Tina?" I asked. "Tina Walters?!"

She laughed, coming forward to hug Bex and I.

"I always did say it's a good thing to be the eyes and ears of Gallagher, but nobody believed me. How about now, kids?"

"Now," Abby said, in a final voice and we already knew we were going to get the jet lag lecture again. "Now, we get some rest before it's show time."

* * *

_My hands were shaking as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, not even looking down at the necklace I was packing. It was everything. This was everything. But I couldn't keep it on me. No. If I was caught, I'd lose everything my father left me and I'd lose everything he worked for. My handwriting was barely legible as I put it in the pouch and wrote 'me' on the cover. There was a knock on my room door and I quickly pushed aside the pouch under a towel. Walking out of the bathroom, I crossed the beautiful room and opened the door._

_Preston quickly walked in, pulling me into a tight hug, one which I responded to with complete surprise (I suppose it was his luck I didn't throw him down and put his back in place). _

_"Are you alright? Did you get what you wanted? Are you in trouble?" he asked rapidly, pulling back as if to assess bodily damage. I waved his concerns off._

_"Yes, I'm fine -"_

_"Because we can help. You're on American soil. You can't -"_

_"Preston, I didn't rob it. I had an account there. I visited my own safety deposit box."_

_"Oh," he said, looking a little crestfallen. As if spies couldn't possible have it that easy sometimes._

_"Yeah. No robberies."_

_"Well, thank god for that. I had no idea how I was supposed to explain that one," he laughed, squeezing my shoulders. I smiled, before I hugged him tightly again._

_"Cam -"_

_"Thank you. For taking me in. For not telling anybody. Thank you, so much, Preston. You shouldn't have," I whispered. All I could think of was this dreamlike reality I'd managed to live in for the past few days, since I'd shown up at their doorstep. Before that it had been dingy motels and hitch-hiking. I remembered the sweet guy who'd given me a ride from Vienna till Rome before I gave him some money and made him promise not to worry about me. He - his name was Dane - had even offered to stay with me but I'd told him I was going to a safe place._

_"Hey," he said, squeezing me. "Any friend of Macey's is a friend of mine. You saved my life, Cammie. I won't ever forget that. I can never repay that."_

_"You just did by saving mine," I said, pulling back a little. I felt my breath get caught in my throat. He had his arms around me and I hated myself for even thinking that it had been far too long since someone had done that to me. Zach. I missed Zach. I felt a lump in my throat just thinking his name, remembering the way he used to hold me, kiss me, whisper his cheesy and not so cheesy lines to me. I hadn't even gotten a chance to tell him I loved him before I left. Would I ever get a chance to again? Would I ever see him again?_

_"Cammie..." Preston whispered, and he wasn't exactly looking at my eyes as he said this. _

_"Preston -" I said, as he leaned in. He didn't kiss me. Not exactly. His lips were a breath away, as if he was scared to go there. I felt him take a deep breath, his lips barely ghosting over mine before he whispered._

_"I know. I get it. We can't go there. I don't think either of us wants to go there," he said. He pulled back, simply holding my face in his hands. The expression he was wearing was the most complex expression I'd ever seen on Preston's face ever. I was so used to thinking of him as that skinny boy following Macey, that I forgot that time had changed him - and not just appearance-wise._

_"We don't," I said, unsure if it was a question or an agreement._

_"No. It's not fair to either of us. Right now, you're thinking of your guy, Zach. And I'm thinking of your best friend. That's not very fair to any of the four of us, is it?"_

_"No. No, it's not," I agreed, pulling myself away from him. The lack of warmth was like a slap in the face, waking me up from the twisted thoughts my loneliness had borne. Had I really nearly let him do that? To me? To himself? To Zach? To Macey? What kind of monster had I become?_

_"Hey. Don't beat yourself up over it. Nothing happened. You're still my friend, and I'm still here to help you," he reminded me, reaching out to hold my hand._

_"Cameron, dear, will you be joining us - oh, I'm so sorry," came Mr. Winter's voice as he opened the door. His eyes landed on us, then to our held hands and then he seemed to take in the heavy atmosphere of the room. Preston and I let go as if we'd been electrocuted. _

_"I had no idea. My apologies," Mr. Winters said. He looked amused._

_"No, Dad, it's nothing!" Preston groaned._

_"I'll leave you two alone," his father said, backing out of the room._

_"No, Dad, wait!" Preston said, reaching for the door. He turned to me, looking apologetic. _

_"Sorry. He gets the weirdest of ideas sometimes. Politician," he rolled his eyes, as if that explained everything. "I have to go out but...when I'm back, I'll see you at dinner?"_

_I nodded weakly and then shut the door once he left. My heart was racing as I went back to the bathroom, grabbing the pouch once more. I had to move. I had to move before more people got hurt because of me. I opened the drawer, shuffling through the contents until I wrapped my fingers around the cold metallic object I was looking for. I placed the scissors next to the box of hair dye I'd bought, and looked back at my reflection. Something told me that even without the added changes, I still didn't recognize myself._

_It was time to move._

* * *

"No," was all I whispered as my eyes opened. My hands automatically came to my lips as I sat up straight. Tears welled in my eyes. Tears of shame. Tears of horror. Tears of guilt. What was that? _What the hell was that_?

As if a record had been pushed, Preston's words from our senior year reconnaissance mission came rushing back to me.

_"She showed up on the Fourth of July. I remember because I'd been wishing there were fireworks. Then you came and…well…I guess I got them."_

"Hey," Zach whispered, groaning sleepily. He reached out to gently rub my back, but I felt undeserving of that touch. I shuffled away from him, my body curling up. Maybe if I curled up tight enough than the earth would open up and swallow me whole. He sat up straight beside me, his hand reaching over to the bedside lamp. His sleepiness seemed to have vanished as he reached out to me again. But once more, I evaded him. He held up his hands in surrender, as if I was a rabid animal he was afraid to approach.

"Hey, what's wrong? Did you remember something?" he asked, trying to catch my eye. I couldn't bring it in myself to meet his gaze.

I nodded.

"It's okay, Cam. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. We'll work it out. They're not going to hurt you anymore -"

"I let him kiss me," I blurted out, wanting him to stop. I couldn't bear to hear him say such comforting words. Not when I was such a monster. His voice sort of faded away and he looked like he was choking on whatever he was about to say. I can never, ever forget the expression he had on his face. It was confused. Hurt. Angry. Devastated. And then it was the absolute worst one: unreadable.

"What?" he asked. I got off the bed, walking like a ghost to the spot at the foot of it, facing the same way I'd been facing in my memory. "I stood here. And he stood there. That summer. And he almost kissed me, and I didn't stop him."

"You're mistaking me for knowing what the hell you're talking about," he said, still sitting on the bed. I turned to look at him as tears ran down my cheeks.

"That summer, after I got the key, before I left. We were talking and we were hugging - Preston and I. And -"

"You had a ...moment," Zach finished. He sounded like he was eating something bitter. "I get it."

He stood up and walked over to me, standing in front of me, occupying the exact same spot that Preston had.

"No, you don't Zach. I remember it. I remember him holding me and all I could think about was how much I missed _you._ And how much I loved you. And how I never got to tell you that and how I might never see you again."

"Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him, though?" he asked softly.

"No. Not really. He said it wasn't fair to any of us, since I was thinking of you and he was thinking of Macey."

Zach swallowed, before giving me a small smile. It looked half real and half unreal.

"Then it doesn't matter, right? It's over. It never happened. So why does it matter?"

"Because it almost _did _happen. We both almost went there. And we almost dragged you and Macey down with us. I - what kind of person would I be if I even let myself think that? How could I do that to you? Or my own best friend?" I said, my tears falling faster.

"Cammie - we've done worse things."

"Honeypot missions don't count. Those don't _mean _anything. This didn't have any hidden agenda. It was - "

"A lost girl who was way in over her head and missing the person she loved, allowing herself to consider a moment of weakness which, in the end, she didn't even really give into."

I gaped at him before shaking my head.

"How can you be so understanding about this? How can you not -"

"Walk out right now and slaughter Preston in his sleep? Oh, _trust me. _I want to. I want to make him hurt for even getting the idea of putting his hands on you when you were alone and vulnerable," he admitted. "But you're not my property, Cam. And I wasn't blind to the way Preston and his father were acting when we came back here. I knew, I guess... I always knew. And it didn't matter. We were just kids. And we've done worse things. Much, much worse things. We've hurt people. We've killed people. We've suffered worse, and we've inflicted worse pain. This is nothing in comparison to that."

"But -"

He came closer, putting his arms around me, and then everything I'd remembered feeling the last time I was in this spot - it vanished. Because it was _nothing _in comparison to how it felt to have Zach barely brush my skin and still send my entire body reeling and burning. That moment had been like a dull attempt to light a spark - an expectation when nothing could ever happen. This? This was an inferno.

"How are you not mad at me?" I whispered, pressing my forehead to his.

"You know exactly why."

And I did. I knew _exactly _why he knew how I'd felt in that moment. Hopeless. Confused. Dazed. Lonely. Lost. He knew because I wasn't the only one who'd spent that summer going crazy without the person I was in love with. And I wasn't the only one who'd almost betrayed my best friend. He'd been in this same position. Only it wasn't Preston; it was Bex. While Preston and I had shared an adrenaline filled moment of camaraderie and loneliness, Zach and Bex had spent a summer of losing someone they dearly loved. But none of us had taken that landslide of a step because we all valued each other and our friendships more than we valued our weaknesses. And I guess that's what made everything different.

It _didn't _matter what any of us had almost done. Because we _were _kids. And we _had _done worse things. That summer had been a nightmare for all of us, in one way or the other. And we'd all clung to a desperate hope which had presented itself in a moment of darkness. Even if we had taken the step, perhaps it would've mattered... but now it didn't. Because we hadn't. Because we'd all realized in time that whatever light was present at the end of the tunnel, it was blinding in comparison to what we'd all tried to cling to. Preston had been right. None of us could've gone there. None of us had really wanted to. I couldn't do that to Macey or Zach. Preston couldn't hurt Macey that way. Zach couldn't do that to me, nor to his friendship with Bex. And Bex couldn't have hurt me like that (and I guess, in the long run, none of this would matter to Grant either, despite Zach being his best friend). Most importantly, none of us could do that to ourselves because we'd all be thinking of someone else. Because within our twisted layers of reality, we all valued each other more than we valued ourselves. Maybe it came with being spies. Maybe it came with being human. And being human was what we'd done - both, in the best and worst ways.

Was I still a little jealous of the idea of Zach and Bex getting close? Of course, I was. Just as I knew Zach was raging inside at the idea of Preston and I. Was I mad at Bex and Zach? Never. Because they mattered to me more than wherever my twisted jealousy could take me. Even before I'd been put in a similar position, I'd never held it against them. Because Bex was my best friend. Zach was the love of my life, and he loved _me_ back, and we were all together and safe and that's all that mattered. What mattered was that we'd all come past that and I'd found a reliable friend in Preston; that Zach and Bex had moved past that and found a beautiful friendship.

We were all where we were supposed to be. We'd all found the light in the darkness and then the darkness didn't matter.

"Right now, Cam," Zach whispered, pulling me out of my reverie. "Right now is all that matters."

And then he kissed me. And it was everything. It overrode everything that room had stood for and created something new that couldn't be erased. I clung to him desperately, hungrily, as if I would die if he let me go even for a moment. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was teeth and tongue and heat and possession. His hands crept up my back and I tore his shirt a little and we both gasped as he lowered me back onto the bed. His lips refused to leave my skin and I refused to stop touching him until everything was shed. Our memories, our mistakes, our weaknesses, all came off just the like the clothes until there was nothing between us except what was _real _and _now._

"Zach," I whispered, running my hands down his chest. He buried his face in my neck.

"I know you said I'm not your property," I gasped, as his lips did things to me which made my head spin. "And I'm not. But I'm still yours."

"Mine," he practically growled in my ear, and then softened his tone to a whisper. "Mine. You're all mine."

"All yours," I hissed, clinging to him tightly, kissing his neck, his shoulder, faded battle scars and faded memories. "And you're all mine."

He pulled back to stare at my eyes, and in the moonlight, it was as if he was some kind of angel descended upon earth to be my salvation. But he wasn't. We were both human. Recklessly, hopelessly, deliriously human. He flipped us over, and then I flipped him over, until it was once more a battleground we were used to. He pushed, I pulled. I pushed, he pulled. We never stayed still, creating our own vortex, refusing to tie ourselves to the gravity of this room which threatened to pull us under. We refused to drown in anything except ourselves and we drowned till we remembered nothing - not even our own names. Just each other's.

And then there was no more talking. It was nothing and everything at the same time until heads were spinning and we felt dizzy in the most delicious way possible, and all I could think about was that we were together.

And we would be forever.

* * *

"All clear for now, Chameleon," Bex's voice buzzed through the comm unit. I nodded, studying the three hundred and sixty degree view of the entrance to the Vatican. Tourists were lined up outside, hundreds already in and out for the day. From the outside, I guess, everyone thought I was just sitting in a reporter's van, messing around with video feeds. That was the thing about having Tina Walters on your side. Being a journalist (like her mom) wasn't just a cover for the two of them in the face of civilians. They really were journalists - nosy to a tee. I guess that's what happens when you're trained in espionage _and_ in broadcast media. When Tina had informed us that she'd coordinated with the Vatican guards to get their security feeds, we'd all been hesitant. After all, we didn't _know _who was on our side.

But it was a necessary risk to take. We couldn't have them accidentally stumble into the middle of a live op - and we couldn't pose ourselves as a threat to the Vatican, and take away the attention from the Circle. It was team work which had to be done with a huge sack of salt. Which is why our team was currently on foot, and our tech team sat around me, keeping a close eye to make sure that whatever our eyes saw on screen was true for what everyone in the field saw.

We stood in surveillance for a long time. Waiting. Waiting. Nothing happened. We rotated positions. We switched duties. I even took a fifteen minute power nap at the back of the truck. Almost three hours post setting up, I decided to walk around a little when it was my cue again.

"All right, I'm going in," Zach's voice came on comms and I kept a careful eye on his fuzzy image as he walked through the gates of the Vatican.

"And rotate," Grant spoke up in my ear. I opened the van door, closing it behind me and stretching a little. People walked by, not noticing me as I fiddled with a cell phone, a press ID clipped to my flannel shirt. Looking as bored as ever, I quickly picked up the change in position. Bex took over Zach's eyeball position; Grant moved into her old backup position and I took over his reserve spot. I walked along the road, passing by a sign that said _Via Borgo Santo Spirito. _I yawned. I fiddled. I even leaned against a wall and ate a candy bar. Around us, the tourists and locals continued going about their day. I whistled under my breath, putting my hands inside my jacket as the afternoon grew a little cooler.

"Chameleon, Duchess, all clear on my end," Grant spoke.

"All clear on my end too," Bex added. "Chameleon?"

I looked around, noticing that nothing seemed to be out of place.

"Duch - mph!" my words were cut off into a muffled cry of surprise as a hand went around to cover my mouth. His other hand came around my waist, pulling me backwards into the alley. On instinct, I crushed down my foot in the man's instep, making him lose his hold on me. I drove back my elbow into his diaphragm, then smashed it upwards into his chin. He cried out in pain.

"Chameleon?" came eight different panicked voices in my ear. But I was too busy fighting to actually manage a coherent response. The man tried to grab me again, getting my knee and bringing me to the ground. But I was quick to grab the hand on my leg, twisting it behind his back and flipping us over. I used me weight to hold him down, my knee pressed into his spine as I twisted both his hands behind him and zip tied them.

"I'm fine," I gasped into my unit. "But I have a suspect down."

I rolled the man over, the breath getting knocked out of my lungs. I staggered backwards, a million memories rushing through my head. Laughter. Music. Running. Screaming. Blood. Pain. Pain. Pain. So much pain.

"Chameleon?" came Abby's worried voice. "What's wrong? We're on our way."

I hadn't even realized that I was breathing heavy, or that my mind was in a different time and place altogether.

"Dane," I whispered. "It's Dane."


	12. twelve

**Oh god, I am so sorry this took a little longer. My stupid laptop crashed just as I was writing the second half of this chapter and I lost all the changes :/ So I had to rewrite it ugh. **

**YAY! I am SO glad that I wasn't the only one who suspected something happened with Cammie and Preston - but I didn't want to take it far because honestly I don't see Cammie doing that with anyone she doesn't have genuine feelings for. I think it's pretty amazing that Preston can joke about it though, and that both of them moved past that. **

**I'm getting emotional because I've quickly reached Chapter 12 and we're nearing the climax aaaaaaahhhhh I'm so bittersweet about it (I guess I shall make myself feel better with outtakes and other oneshots ha). **

**And here we have chapter 12 and some more about Dane (although I think a couple of you have already suspected where it's going).**

**Thank you guys for the reviews! Keep them coming so that I know I'm doing justice all the way!**

_**To all the lovely people who asked me if I'm continuing:**** Yes, dearies. I am not leaving this one unfinished :D I've just been slower on updates since this Monday because college started again.**_

_**To Grace, who asked me about TVD and the title:**** I realized through chapter 4 or something that I did indeed name it similarly to 1x14 ha! :D But yes, I do have a soft spot for TVD despite the fact that I'm starting to lose interest. I mostly just watch it for Elena (my babbbbyy I love her to death), Bonnie (queen) and Caroline (actual cutie). Not Stefan's biggest fan though, I'm sorry :/**_

**- Brooke xx**

**Chapter Rating: T**

**Chapter Warning: Torture**

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Twelve**

I know a lot of people would prefer the feeling of bungee jumping over the feeling of free falling, simply because it sounds safer. I know, they would. Any sane person would. But when you're falling endlessly, escaping from everything that is getting further away from you, and there's a sudden tug which snaps you back like a whiplash? Yeah - that just sucks. I could feel it then, the nauseating pain inside my abdomen, the leash which was yanking me back and drowning me in the memories of being tortured.

"Cam, you don't have to do this," Bex whispered to me as we sat in the dingy room. But my hands moved of their own accord. Whether it was autopilot or my own thinking, it didn't matter. Both kept me going and both terrified me. But I had no time to be scared. I was beyond being scared of his voice and his face and everything it held. I was angry. I was angry with him and I was angry with Catherine and I was angry with this entire organization that thought I was a little puppet to be strung around and played with.

The room was dark. It was a safe house, which we'd planned on using in case Preston couldn't cater to us at the embassy. But this was something that wouldn't take place within their quarters. This was something that had to be done far away, many floors below the Roman streets that criss crossed over us. Around me stood Zach and Grant, both looking at Dane with disdain and hatred. The rest of our team continued working, keeping their eyes out for suspicious terror activity.

Once I was sure the ropes and duct tape were secure, I poked Dane's cheek. He groaned, a bruise forming on his face from where I'd punched him and knocked him out. I poked harder. He gasped in his half awake state. When it was obvious he wasn't waking up any time soon, I slapped him.

"Cam -" Grant started but I threw him a look. He physically took a step back. I wondered what he saw in my eyes to make him do that.

"Wakey wakey, Dane," I said, slapping him again. His eyes flickered open and then they widened. He struggled as soon as he realized he was bound and gagged, panic flickering through those dark blue eyes.

"It's not very fun being on the other end is it?" I asked. "Now, you're lucky I'm not as despicable a person as you are. So, I _can _give you the easy way out. You can talk to us without us having to resort to other methods. I'm sure you're familiar with what those are."

He shook his head rapidly and I sighed. It was eerie how calm I felt holding such a sickening amount of power over him. It was as if every human thing inside of me had been shut off - as if all that was left was anger and vengeance.

I reached into my back pocket, unsheathing a switch blade. It glinted dangerously in the light and I held the tip of it to his cheek.

"Cam," someone warned - I don't know who.

"Shut up," I replied and then focused on Dane again. He was looking terrified. He knew. He knew I was capable of reciprocating every ounce of pain they'd inflicted on me for those weeks I was with them.

"So," I said. "Will you help us? Or am I just going to have to make fancy Dane ribbons out of you?"

He nodded. I ripped off the duct tape, knowing it would sting. He hissed, looking at the rest of us in the room. His eyes widened when he noticed Zach.

"Flight attendant dude," he said. Zach stepped forward, a cold look on his face. Sarcasm dripped from his voice like venom.

"I like the nickname. I don't know what I should call you...guy who left a heck of an aisle clean up? Or, guy who tortured my girlfriend? Which one has a better ring to it?"

Dane cowered under his gaze and I didn't blame him. Zach could be scary when he wanted to be. I could tell Dane had realized that we were the four people from the flight to London - and he was terrified of what we could possibly do to him. If only he knew the things I was capable of, right now. He should've been thankful that it was our side who held a grudge against him. That he'd go to jail, and not be murdered brutally and thrown away. I knelt in front of him, holding the blade in a threatening manner.

"Tell us why you're here."

"I can't. They'll...they'll -"

"Wrong answer," I said flippantly, pressing the blade to the back of his hand. He curled it tightly over the arm of the chair and I pressed a little deeper. A small bead of blood appeared.

"Why are you here?" I asked again.

"Please, please don't hurt me. I -"

I abruptly stood up, grabbing him by the collar.

"How dare you? How dare you beg and plead for me to not hurt you? _You _barely batted an eyelash when your friends did worse to me. You didn't stop them when I said over and over again that I didn't know what they were looking for."

He whimpered.

"I'm sorry, Cammie. I'm really sorry. They -"

"Do you remember how long I screamed for?" I whispered, my voice cracking a little as if it was remembering how I'd screamed myself raw. I could've sworn I could hear my own screams echoing in my ears. "I'll bet you do. I'll make you scream for at least twice that long if you don't fess up what you know."

"Just give her the answers, Dane," Bex said. "Or we _will _hurt you. This can go a lot easier for you if you cooperate with us."

"I wasn't with them when I was in Vienna!" he exclaimed. He turned to me. "I don't know...if you remember. But we met in Vienna. I was driving to Rome, and you said you needed a ride and I didn't mind."

"Why was I in Vienna?" I asked. Somehow, I'd started my journey in Austria and then made it back there, with a million things taking place in between.

"I don't know, I swear I don't know. I wasn't working for them back then. But then we got to Rome, and you said that we had to say goodbye. I didn't want to. I mean, we'd been on the road for almost eleven hours and it was obvious you were running from something. But you promised me you'd be safe and you gave me some money for the fuel and food. Then you vanished."

He didn't say anything after that, even when I raised my eyebrows as a cue for him to continue. A wave of rage swept inside me, and I dug the knife deeper into the back of his hand. He cried out in pain and started stammering.

"I - I - They found me. They came to me. They asked me where you went and I told them I didn't know. They said they could give me money to - to - I needed the money. Why do you think I came all the way to Rome? I needed the money badly. I didn't know what they were going to do to you, I swear. They were dressed like cops. I thought you were a criminal. They told me I could go to jail for helping you."

"How did you find me?"

"You were leaving the embassy, so I followed you. You looked different but I knew it was you. I knew you would've gone to the embassy - where else would you find a safe place as a foreigner? Then I ran into you on purpose and asked if I could help. You said that you needed to find a souvenir shop, and then a post office. So I took you to the market, and you bought some things. Then you mailed them."

_You and your young man. _I'd spent months assuming that had meant Preston. But it hadn't, had it? Dane was the young man who'd been there with me. And it was obvious that he'd never known I'd mailed more than just bracelets - that I'd also sent the necklace along with the package. If he'd known, then everything would've ended much worse. They would've killed me to get that necklace because, after that, it wouldn't have mattered. That was the key. They'd have the key and Catherine would've already had the map.

I could picture it clearly. Them finding us. Us running through the streets. The apology Dane sent my way before everything went dark and cold. After that it was a never ending nightmare of blood and pain. Of agony, both emotional and physical. You'd think that after going through torture, you'd never be able to inflict that sort of pain on someone else. But that's not right. Because when something like that breaks you, you lose a part of yourself which believes in right and wrong. You lose the part of you which believes in the rules of humanity. You want nothing more than to make everyone else suffer even a fraction of what you did. It seems...it seems too _unfair _that nobody else should feel the pain you do.

"Why didn't you stop them?" I asked. "Why didn't you stop them when I said I didn't have the information? Was it the money? You did all this for money?"

"I _needed _the money, Cammie, you don't _get it. _My dad was sick. That's why I came to Rome. For a job! My dad would've -"

"They killed _my _Dad!" I snapped, my voice cracking again. I felt Zach put a hand on my arm but I shrugged it off. "They murdered him because he refused to give into their torture. Or did you _forget that? _You were the one who fetched me, didn't you? You were the one who took me to where the grave was. Did you _really _think they would give you money for your Dad? One random civilian?"

"I had to do what I could!" Dane said, tears in his eyes. I looked away. No. I wasn't going to let him make me feel guilty. I refused to let my captors make me feel sorry for them. They'd trained us for this. I could remember the lessons we'd been taught, the words our teachers had shared: _You can't let them fool you into thinking they're the good guys. That is A-grade example of Stockholm Syndrome. There is no worse torture than when you have to comfort the person who is hurting you. It takes away your agency. It takes away your right to process pain. It invalidates your suffering. Never, ever, let your captor emotionally compromise you._

"Why are you in Rome, right now?" Grant asked. "Don't you work for Catherine?"

"Who's Catherine?" Dane asked, frowning.

I grabbed the knife again but he shook his head wildly.

"No, no, I swear I don't know who Catherine is. I was working for some girl named Cathy. I swear I don't know who Catherine is - unless they're the same person."

"They're not," Bex spat. "What did Cathy say to you?"

"She said I had to keep an eye on Cammie. She told me that Cammie would remember and she would come to Rome. I had to keep an eye on her."

"For what? To make sure we stopped the attack?" I asked. He didn't say anything, pursing his lips tightly. I dug the blade deeper and he didn't say anything. He simply shut his eyelids tight, sweat breaking across his skin, his teeth chattering. I pulled out the knife and moved it to his arm, digging it in and making a deep slash. He cried out as his skin tore open, blood trailing down in rivulets.

"Stop. Please, stop," he begged and I leaned in, whispering in his ear.

"No. Never. I will never stop even when you beg me to. So, just give us the answers we need and we can do something less painful with you."

"Cathy told me you were a feisty one," he said.

I felt something shift in the room. It was as if he suddenly held all the cards. I pulled back, seeing his scared face turn into a smug smile. The fake fear he'd been brandishing at us, left his eyes, revealing complete indifference. He didn't care. He didn't care what we did to him now. I leaned closer, grabbing his chin and staring into his eyes, trying to figure out his expression. It was defeated, but in the way where he didn't care anymore.

Which meant he'd done his job.

"What did Cathy send you here for?" I suddenly asked, a hint of fear and nervousness entering me. It made my hands shake. All the confidence I'd had, fueled by my anger, was being replaced by something cold and uncomfortable. Why did I feel like I was walking into a trap?

"She told me she'd wire me the money the moment I did what I had to do," he laughed. "I don't care what you do to me now, Cameron Morgan. That money has already reached my Dad."

Bex pushed me out of the way, punching Dane across the face. He spat out blood, grinning at us a bloody smile.

"What were your orders?" Bex asked, curling her hand around his collar.

"I just had to keep you busy. Keep you occupied. Waste your time. Whatever you want to call it."

"Why?" Grant demanded, moving forward. I turned to look at Zach who was staring at me. But it felt like he was looking right through me, he was so deep in his thoughts. I finally caught his eye and raised my eyebrows. He shook his head and mouthed 'I_ don't know what's happening'._

Dane didn't say anything and Bex punched him again. First his face. Then she punched him in the gut. Dane lost his breath, doubling over, wheezing. His voice was shaking, tears of pain entering his eyes. Blood ran down his noise, and into his mouth, making him choke.

"Answer us," Bex demanded, grabbing his hair and snapping his head back.

"Cathy -" Dane wheezed. "Cathy said...that she was going to...reveal herself to Cammie. She said...that Cammie would try...to figure out the Circle's next...move. That...she'd try and...stop it. She said...Cammie would do...anything to be...in Rome. I had to...make sure...to waste...her time...to keep her...here...long enough."

His words were interspersed with coughs and ragged breathing. But his face was serene. He'd done his job. He felt like he was done. But I couldn't concentrate on that. I'd known Cathy was working with Catherine to stop the war. They _wanted _me in Rome to stop the Vatican from being harmed. But what did he mean by 'keep her here long enough'? Why did they want to keep me here? What were they -

"Oh god," I gasped, my hand coming up to my mouth. I felt the energy leave my knees and my breath whoosh out of my lungs. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god, I was such an _idiot.__  
_

"What? Cammie?" Zach asked, turning me to look at him. Dane laughed and then coughed, as if he knew I'd figured it out.

I felt myself stagger backwards, shaking my head rapidly. I'd done it again. I'd promised myself I'd never fall for their traps again, and I'd walked right into the biggest one. Was I getting that predictable? Time and again people said that I was one of the finet agents Gallagher had produced, but where were my fine skills now? How had I made such a huge mistake? I'd put myself through utter agony to retrieve and shuffle through those memories - just to get a clue. How had I not known that those clues were _planted _there? That the Circle had counted on me to pick them up like bait?

"Dayna's not the distraction," I whispered.

"What? Cammie? Snap out of it and explain," Bex said, quickly walking up to me and lightly tapping my cheek.

I pulled away, shaking my head. My fingers rubbed my temples.

"Don't you get it?" I gasped. "_Rome _is the distraction. _Dayna _is the _target. _We had it wrong. We got it wrong."

No. _I _got it wrong. I was the one who had convinced them this was the ultimate Circle plan to bring down the world. I'd convinced them that the Circle was wounded enough to take out hundreds of people in the Vatican. I'd pulled amazing agents on my side to take me to Italy, and made Dayna a low priority.

But the Circle wasn't that wounded, were they? They weren't planning on doing something as stupid as attempt to bomb the Vatican. They were going after their original targets - banking on the fact that Caspia was still a volatile territory with Iran's trade going through it until their ports were rebuilt. That it was volatile enough that, should two young girls from the royal family get killed _while their bodyguards _pursue another threat - it would start riots.

Everyone was looking at me like I'd gone crazy - as if the idea of Vatican wasn't crazy, but the idea of a second assassination attempt was. I grabbed Zach by the shirt, shaking him a little. He pulled me close, his hands curling around mine, clearly trying to calm me down.

"Cam, hey, what are you saying? What _are you saying?_" he whispered, expecting an explanation._  
_

"Cathy wasn't working _for _Catherine, was she?" I turned to Dane. He looked like he was on the verge of falling asleep. I had no qualms about smacking his face to wake him up.

"What?" he whispered, coughing again.

"Cathy wasn't working for Catherine, was she? After she helped her escape, that was the last thing she really did for her, wasn't it? When she was going underground, pretending to be on sabbatical, then we weren't the only ones she was escaping from. She was running from Catherine too. Because she didn't believe in her anymore. She didn't want to stop the war."

"Cathy..." Dane wheezed. "She...told Randy and I...that we had a bigger...agenda than just...getting some names from you. Why do you think...she offered me so much...money? She said...there would come...a day...when you tried...to remember again. And when you did...you would come to Rome...to stop something...you thought was a threat...and when that day came...I had to keep you here."

"Rome is the sword they're dangling over our heads. Not my life, not Dayna's. Those were empty threats...but not to distract us. Those were empty threats because they knew they couldn't get away with it with all of us there. They had to make us feel like Dayna was safe and the danger was somewhere else. They _counted _on me to pinpoint Rome. They counted on all of us to come here. They counted on it so when our backs were turned, they could go after Dayna and Amirah," I said, turning to the others. They all were looking at me. Then they looked at each other.

Then panic broke out.

Grant and Zach dove for the elevator at the same time, desperate to return to the ground level and spread the news like wildfire. We had to get back. Everyone back home had to be alerted. Dayna and Amirah had to be put on lockdown. This was all a mistake. This was all one huge mistake.

This was my fault.

I felt the energy leave my knees, my head falling in my hands. Bex was pacing around us, her hand reaching to press into my shoulder. Her fingers gripped me tight, digging into my skin.

This was my fault.

I'd spent so much time trying to outsmart them that they'd _known _I was going to attempt to do this. And they'd given me a handy map and directions to follow, which I had dutifully done. The world was their stage, and I had become their star performer, playing my part perfectly. I had basically done everything they wanted, making sure every domino fell in the exact spot they planned it to. When had I become their minion without knowing it?

That summer. I'd done it that summer because they'd _known _Catherine and Dr. Steve wouldn't let me remember everything that happened. Dr. Steve brainwashed me by becoming my confidant; by ensuring that with our camaraderie came a whole new level of trust. But the Inner Circle had done better. They'd brainwashed me in ways which left me wondering how many of my thoughts and ideas were my own and how many were theirs. Together, the two groups had turned me inside out and made me one of theirs.

I'd been inside the Circle.

And Cammie Morgan had never fully come out.

Zach had said he was afraid of what I would remember. Of how I would handle it. My mother and Abby had said there were things I didn't want to remember because they would hurt me more than help. But had any of them counted on this? Had they counted on me becoming a person who couldn't trust her own actions? Had they counted on me becoming so unhinged? Had they counted on me losing something so essential to me that without it, there wasn't even a whole person left?

I stared at my hands which had Dane's blood. I remembered the urge I'd felt to kill Cathy. The way I'd killed that man in the woods. The precision with which I'd assembled the rifle in CoveOps. The way I'd shot Maxwell Edwards, without an inch of remorse.

But the idea of having blood on my hands didn't scare me. No. It was the idea that I _wasn't _scared. That I felt not even a little remorse or regret.

That is what scared me.

There was a loud shriek of anger and frustration which echoed through the room. It took me a few seconds to realize it was coming from me. I grabbed a bottle of water, which was sitting on the floor, and threw it across the room. I couldn't see in the darkness, but I heard it smack against the wall and break.

"Cam," Bex came up beside me, putting her hands on my shoulders again. But I shrugged them off, standing up and walking over to Dane. I grabbed him by the collar, curling my fingers through it and shaking him. He stared at me, a hint of worry in his eyes and I tightened the hold I had on him.

"Why did you do it?" I asked. "How could you close your eyes and turn your back on an innocent girl while they hurt her like that?"

"I'm -"

"No!" I snapped. "You don't get to justify this using your poor father as an excuse. You don't get to justify this by apologizing to me. You _tell _me how you had it in you to watch them slice me up like tuna, to starve me for weeks, to abuse me, while you just watched. You're a _civilian. _How did you have it in you to offer me up on a silver platter?"

"I needed the money, Cammie," he repeated uselessly. "I _needed _the money."

"Cam, we have to go. The others will find him here and take him. We should go," Bex said, trying to pull me away but I felt my eyes burning. They weren't burning with tears though. I could tell they were bloodshot with anger. I grabbed the knife which I'd dropped onto the floor and held it to Dane's neck.

"I don't care what you do to me now, Cammie," he laughed. "Cathy's sending the money to my Dad, right now -"

"Cathy has been dead for more than forty eight hours, Dane. You might want to rethink your incentives for working with her. You're not getting anything other than jail time and a disappointed Dad," I hissed.

And for the first time that day, I saw true terror in Dane's eyes. He struggled uselessly against my hold and the ropes, tears falling on his cheeks. He shook his head.

"No, you're _lying. _You're -"

I didn't wait to hear what he had to say. I drove the knife right into his thigh, all the way to the hilt. My hands were shaking as I inflicted it on him, but I couldn't help it.

"Cammie!" Bex snapped, pulling me away. I knew that if she _really _wanted to stop me, she'd have done it earlier. Dane howled and sobbed in pain, interspersed with the knowledge of his ultimate failure. I wanted to apologize. I wanted to help him. I wanted his pain to stop. But I couldn't. My anger and vengeance got the better of me.

"You're going to thank me for not pulling that out, Dane," I called out, as I got dragged to the elevator, repeating the haunting words Randy had told me. "It'll stop you from bleeding to death."

* * *

**THINGS YOU CAN'T HELP BUT DO WHEN YOU PUT SOMEONE ELSE'S LIFE IN DANGER **

_1. Glare at every flight attendant who gives you a fabulous smile._

_2. Fiddle. A lot._

_3. Check your watch every five minutes, wondering if that's when your friend died thanks to your mistakes._

_4. Not believe people when they tell you it isn't your fault._

_5. Blame every horrible person on the planet._

_6. Blame yourself._

People were shouting. Some were pointing fingers. Some were pulling me around, from one car to another, one seat to another. But my mind was stuck on Dayna. Dayna whom I'd abandoned. Dayna who was probably in danger because of me. Amirah was still safe at Gallagher but...but what about Dayna? Were people even thinking about her? Was she _"important" _enough to receive their attention?

I think this was the first time I didn't fall asleep on a plane. I simply stared outside, quiet as a mouse. I hadn't uttered much since we'd left Rome, the teams splitting up. Some stayed behind as precautionary measure, in case the Circle _did _try to hurt people in the Vatican. Some came with us. Dayna's guardians at Georgetown had already been given a heads up and everyone was positive that it was in no way my doing.

After all, people who had been in this business for years, were led on with simpler tricks. It wasn't my fault the Circle brainwashed me. It wasn't my fault the Circle used me. That's what they all said.

Why did nobody point out that I was a liability if the Circle could predict my moves? Why did nobody shout at me for digging at my memories, which were the cause of this distraction to be successful? Why did nobody say anything _to _me?

"What are you thinking of?" asked Townsend. I turned to him. He was the one who had been paired with me, when we'd all split up to avoid surveillance. As we sat - posing as father and daughter - flying over the Atlantic Ocean, I shrugged.

"Something very selfish, actually," I admitted. He raised his eyebrows.

"Selfishness is a very human quality, Cameron," he said. I frowned. Yes, he _would _understand that. Hadn't he been the one to let our curriculum slide, all in the name of keeping an eye on me and getting some answers?

"I just...I'm already on suspension, even if it is for safety reasons. But, I'm awaiting a formal review for attacking Dillon. And now...if something happens to Dayna.."

In that moment, I hated myself.

"Cameron, if something were to happen to Dayna and Amy, our jobs would be the last thing we'd have to worry about," he pointed out.

"I know. But I wouldn't be able to _do _anything to help if I don't have my job. This is all I have. This is everything."

He didn't say anything to that, and he didn't ask anymore questions. I didn't tell him that these selfish thoughts were the only comfort I had in this moment, as I sat uselessly in a plane. If I let my mind wander to the magnitude of what my mistake could do, then I'd be hopeless. I had to think practically. Rationally.

Over us, the seat belt sign switched on again. I had never really removed my seat belt, so I simply pulled on the strap to tighten it. As the cabin crew moved around to prepare for landing, Townsend turned to me again.

"The world would be a perfect place if the good guys didn't make mistakes, Cameron. We're only human. Don't be so harsh on yourself. Don't forget that we may still be able to salvage this situation. You may have given us the tip, but we _all _found reason to follow up on it. It was _our _mistake. Don't put it all on yourself."

I didn't reply to that. I simply waited, as any good spy does.

I waited when we went through customs, and when we found cabs, and when we drove patiently all the way back to Georgetown. But when the car pulled up outside the gates, I had the door open before it even came to a full stop.

Then I started running. And it felt like I'd been running all the way from Rome. I pushed past people, and I climbed two stairs at a time, right until I reached my apartment and threw open the door.

"Dayna!" I cried out, looking around the empty place. It felt like I was walking through a mortuary. No. No, my imagination was getting the better of me. No.

"DAYNA!" I shouted louder, and behind me Zach whispered my name. I turned around and saw the Post-It which was stuck to the fridge. He grabbed it, reading it out loud.

"_Alex, I've stolen your roommates and taken them to the diner. Meet us there if you want to have some fun. Craig. _They're at the diner -" Zach said, but I was already running out again. People moved readily this time, prepared for me to rip through them like a bullet cutting through skin. Night had fallen around us long ago. Some students were coming back from parties. Some were scrambling to squeeze in the last few minutes as the libraries closed for the day. Some braved the night for jogs and walks. The cold air was comfort as sweat broke across my skin; and it wasn't from the exertion.

The diner loomed ahead of me, the 'CLOSED' sign illuminated. But I knew better. Our gang of friends always stayed until later, having been friendly with the staff that, unfortunately, Cathy had introduced us to when she worked there as Carrie. The door was locked but I slammed my fist on it repeatedly, just as Zach, Grant and Bex caught up with me. I hadn't even realized they were hot on my trail. Nor was I aware of the hundreds of vantage points around us that various agents were probably scouting out. I didn't care. I just had to see Dayna with my own eyes. The shutters split a little as curious eyes peered to see who was knocking on a closed door. Then the door opened as Craig beamed at us.

"Lauren! Ivan! Hugh! You're back. And you brought a friend! Hello, friend -" Craig announced, but I walked past him into the popular eatery. Most of the tables had chairs stacked up, and some of the staff were cleaning up. In one booth near the bar, our friends sat. Alex was munching on a bag of chips, animatedly chatting with Elaine. But Elaine was barely paying attention, her eyes like an eagle as she watched us. I could tell she was just as much on edge as all of us. Behind the counter, Aaryan was wiping the glasses (I hadn't even known he'd taken up Carrie's open job spot) as Dayna chatted with him. She turned around and saw me, smiling wide.

The relief which rushed through me almost knocked me over. I stopped in my panicked haze, walking to her slowly and putting my arms around her in a tight hug. She hugged back, surprised but equally enthusiastic. Behind her, Aaryan grinned at his returned roommates, sliding over the counter to go and say hello. Dayna was holding me tightly.

"Are you okay?" I whispered to her, resting my chin on her shoulder. She nodded. I smiled, finally allowing myself that tiny relief. Behind me, I could hear Alex and Aaryan pushing Craig towards the exit, insisting that they'd had enough. I smiled a wide smile at Dayna and she gave me a sad smile back. So, obviously, she knew what was going on. I reached forward to take her hand, to give it a squeeze. I hoped some of my relief would pass onto her. We were in the same boat - both of us targets of ruthless people.

But that's just the problem with being one of us.

When you finally allow yourself to be relieved...well.

I saw the light too late. The slight blinking of the bomb timer behind the fancy lighting of the bar. The rows of alcohol - inflammable alcohol - bottles covering it up. I didn't think. I didn't breathe. Out of instinct, I simply twisted us around, pushing Dayna to safety. I threw her to the ground, myself on top of her, shielding her body with mine.

Then everything around me exploded and our world shattered.


	13. thirteen

**I'm back! Thank you to all my lovely followers and reviewers who are keeping up with this story. I am forever honored and grateful to you!**

**I was writing this chapter and I suddenly realized this is the third last one and it actually hit me that I've managed to bring a story almost to it's end. Just hang on for a_ little_ bit longer, lovelies! Two more to go.**

**Also, this one is a short one. I wanted to keep it separate from the next one which'll be the one where everything gets explained, debriefed and wrapped up. I felt like, as a narrator, that one couldn't go along with this one. **

**Thank you guys for the reviews! Keep them coming so that I know I'm doing justice all the way!**

**- Brooke xx**

**Chapter Rating: T**

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Fire. The entire world was on fire. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. Everything was burning.

And everything hurt.

Soot clouded my vision. Tendrils of smoke and paper fluttered through the air. I could hear flames crackling around me. The floor was hot on my belly, and something smoldering was clawing its way up my back, from my thighs to my shoulders to my neck. I tried to breathe, but only smoke entered my lungs. I coughed. I rolled over and retched. A sharp cry emitted from my lips, and I swallowed more smoke. Pain. There was so much pain. My hands felt wet with blood. Whose blood was it? Probably mine.

"Dayna," I whispered, turning over, crying out in pain again. She lay on the floor, covered in ash and dust. Blood dripped from her forehead and panic seized me. I tried to reach my hand towards her, but it burned across my skin to even try.

"Dayna," I tried to scream, but it was of no use. I reached out to touch her again. My arm brushed the floor and I felt my body burn in pain. My entire back felt raw and hot, as if something had been peeled away from me. Stars clouded my vision.

I could hear screaming. I could hear someone talking. They were saying something. A figure appeared in the smoke and I reached out to defend myself against it. But I could only move so much. Bright pink hair came into my vision and I recognized Elaine.

She stumbled over to Dayna, checking her pulse and wiping the blood from her face. She turned to me, her eyes wide with fear and worry.

"Are you okay?" she mumbled, but not moving from Dayna's side.

"Is _she_?" I asked. Elaine nodded.

"She's going to be fine. She didn't take the brunt of that."

No. No she hadn't. I'd made sure of that. I tried to get up again, biting my lip until I tasted blood. I pushed myself up on my hands and knees, realizing I was much closer to the exit than I'd been before. Obviously, we'd both been thrown off our feet and tossed in the air. I stood up, tumbling down again, the moment I put my weight on my legs. I caught the edge of a toppled chair, hissing as the metal on it sizzled against my skin. I tried standing up again, looking at my leg through the smoke. Blood seemed to be pulsing from the wound at the back of my thigh. I reached my fingers to it and then cried out in pain. I felt burnt and open flesh - as if a chunk of my leg was missing. Or it felt like it anyway.

I heard something crackle and shatter and I looked behind me. The bar was burning through the alcohol and my eyes widened.

"We need to get out of here," I said, coughing hard.

"What?" Elaine asked, already supporting Dayna's weight.

"We need to get out before this place comes down around us," I said, taking a step forward. "We need to - oof!"

I cried out as I stumbled over something, falling on my face. A sob of pain left my throat, my entire body screaming in agony, begging me to stay still. My tears mixed with the dust on my face and I turned to look at what I'd fallen over.

And my heart stopped beating, even if just for a second.

All thoughts of my burns and wounds left my mind as I screamed.

I suddenly felt like I was in the tombs again - a fear which had never quite left me. But this was different. He wasn't the one who'd thrown himself on a bomb. This time it had been me. The only difference was that he hadn't run. He'd come back for me. Now, here he was, at my feet.

"Zach!" I shouted, not even bothering to untangle my legs from his. He lay on his back, spread eagle. And he wasn't moving.

A chill crept up, erasing the burning.

I pulled myself on top of him, pressing my ear to his chest. There was a strong and steady beat inside and I felt like I would cry with relief. I _did _cry with relief.

But why wasn't he moving? I could hear his shallow breathing and I slapped his face. It was warm from the fire, covered in dust, as well. His dark hair was caked with blood and I ran my fingers through his scalp until I found the wound at the back of his head. I pressed my hand down on it as it continued to bleed through my fingers. He was bleeding out. From his head.

"Zach?" I slapped his face with my other hand. "Zach, wake up!"

He didn't move.

"Zach, wake up! WAKE UP!" I shouted louder, as if he would hear me. But my voice was nothing over the sound of the raging fire a few meters away from us. Dread filled my lungs, stronger than the ash, and I thought I would faint. No. No. This could not be happening to us. There was no way I was going to lose him while he bled out right in front of me. He _had _to be okay. His heart was beating too strong inside his chest. It was too strong to give up.

I cried harder, unable to stop myself from doing so.

"Zach," I pleaded, moving myself to pull his head into my lap. My thigh wounds ached but I didn't care. This was Zach. _My _Zach. He couldn't die. There was no world where Zach died and I lived. I didn't care that we were spies. I didn't care that agents didn't come home. This was _Zach. _Those things didn't happen to _us. _

"Please, please, wake up," I whispered into his hair, kissing his dirty forehead. He still didn't stir. I cried harder, my teardrops falling on his face.

"Zach, please," I begged, watching his chest. My imagination reared its ugly head, and I could imagine his breathing slowing down. I reached forward to put a hand on his chest and cried out in pain. I felt like _I _was dying too.

None of this made sense.

Where was the sense in both of us dying from a small bomb and a little fire? Things like that didn't happen.

They didn't.

Not to us.

But here we were - an unconscious, bleeding boy and a burning, wounded girl.

"Help," I whispered, and then screamed. But only smoke entered my lungs, making me cough harder.

"SOMEBODY HELP!" I tried to scream again. I could see shadows moving through the smoke, and outside, there was the telltale red and blue lighting of an ambulance.

"HELP!" I cried out and the shadows moved towards me.

"CAMMIE!" someone shouted and I sobbed in relief. I watched Grant push through the destruction. His hands touched my face, checking for wounds.

"Are you okay? _Are you okay_?" he demanded, and I shook my head.

"Zach," I said, turning to look at him. Grant's eyes turned to look at his best friend, and I watched him fall to his knees, his palms resting on Zach's chest.

Then he slapped his cheek.

"GRANT! Don't move his head" I shouted, pushing his hands away from Zach. I bent over, covering his body with mine, as if Grant was the enemy. As if he was the reason Zach was going to die in my arms. I felt tears run down my face faster. I didn't care about the fire. I didn't care about my own pain. I didn't care about anything anymore.

"You smell like burnt hair; get it out of my face," mumbled a small voice and I gasped, pulling back. Zach coughed, grimacing. Then his eyes opened, blinking hard against the smoke.

"Zach," I whispered, pressing my hands to his cheek.

"Ow," he replied, his fingers coming to where his wound was. He tried to get up and Grant grabbed his shirt, helping him. They both stumbled and then laughed a little.

"You've had worse," Grant pointed out. Zach nodded.

"I've had worse."

But I wasn't paying attention to them. Zach was alright. Zach was going to live. He wasn't going to die in my arms. Grant's eyes turned to mine and then widened.

"Cammie -" he whispered, diving to catch me as my upper body lost its strength, keeling over.

"I'm fine," I insisted, using his arms as support to pull myself up. I cried out harshly, fingers digging into his jacket.

"No, you're not," he said, turning to look at Zach. Zach's eyes were trained on me, wide and worried as he studied the extent of what I looked like. I was pretty sure my back was worse. That's what hurt the most. That's what had been facing the bar when it blew up. But I was completely alright with him standing there and looking at me like that. As long as he'd do that for an entire lifetime. As long as he'd be okay. He cringed, his fingers still on his wound and his sight on me. Then his eyes wavered to something above us and he shouted.

"LOOK OUT!"

He pulled at Grant's jacket at the exact moment that Grant and I pushed each other out of the way. The three of us landed on the floor, a large, burning beam crashing between us. I screamed as I landed on my back, black spots entering my vision.

"CAMMIE!" both of them shouted from the other side of the burning wall between us.

My body arched with pain as I rolled over, onto my front, desperate to get off my wounds. I could do this. I could do this. I had to do this. I pushed myself to my feet, squinting through the fire. The irony was cruel. The burning wall between us was smoldering hot. I searched for him through the warped air and ceiling high flames which threatened to drown me.

"ZACH!" I shouted. "ZACH!"

"I'm fine!" he called out. "Cammie, don't move."

"There's nowhere to go! The exit is on your side!" I shouted back, covering my face with my hands.

"Just don't -"

I caught the reflection without meaning to. I simply let my eyes stray from the flames, onto the cracked mirrors on the walls. And I saw it. Through the orange and the yellow and the black, I saw the flash of dark red. I pivoted on my spot, stumbling a little. The reflection vanished. But it was enough. It was enough.

Anger and adrenaline burnt through my blood as I crossed over to where Elaine knelt beside Dayna.

"Cammie?" she asked, looking up. I didn't answer her. I was in that scary autopilot mode again. I simply reached for her waist, grabbing her gun before she could stop me. Her hands clamped down on my wrists as she ignored my cry of pain.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Ending this," I replied, shoving her away. It was easy, since she was obviously weak and lightheaded from the smoke and fire.

"CAMMIE!" Zach shouted. "CAMMIE DON'T!"

"I have to," I said.

_I love you. _I didn't say it. I simply mouthed it.

Then I took off through the side door which led to the kitchens. I could hear the others screaming but I knew they wouldn't follow. They couldn't. There was a barrier and we broken ones were on one side. Besides, Elaine would never leave Dayna's side. So, I simply ran. I ran despite the fact that every step was a light limp. I ran despite the fact that my back felt like it was on fire. I ran because I'd had enough.

_I__'ve been through worse. I've been through worse. I can do this. _That's what I kept telling myself as I pushed through doorways and entered the open, cold air of the alley behind the diner. I saw the flash of red again and I ran after it. Past buildings, through blocks. I left behind the buildings until I was back on the same fateful road where everything had taken a turn for the worse. I ran through the trees and through the rocks until there was no more tar and only dirt and stones. I ran until there were trees blocking my way and leaves slapping my face.

Then I reached that darn clearing, breathing in the fresh air. I wanted to drop down to the ground and sleep. I wanted to cry. I wanted to close my eyes and let darkness swallow me forever. But my eyes were on the spot where I'd sat only days before and watched Zach kill Cathy. The blood and body had been erased. In its place stood someone else. Someone I thought I'd never see again. Someone I'd never wanted to see again.

For weeks I'd known. But, somehow, seeing her made it more real than it had been. I guess I'd convinced myself she was a myth; a ghost story. But there she stood staring at me. Her dark red hair fluttered in the wind. Her dark eyes (too much like her son's) were trained on me. They twinkled mischievously, as if she'd stolen a cookie and not just blown up a restaurant to kill two people.

"We meet again, Cameron," she smiled.

"Hello, Catherine."

My words were spat. Literally. I spat on the ground, and it was mixed with blood and ash. My hand was raised, keeping the gun pointed at her. My hands shook with pain and the cold. But I refused to lower my weapon. I could feel my chin trembling as I stared at the monster from my closet. How could both, her and I, just be humans? How could we be of the same species and be so different? How could she do this to me? Why?

Had everything for the past few years culminated to this point? Just two wounded, crazy women on a cold night at a cliff edge with nothing below them? It felt almost anti climactic. Somehow, with Catherine and I, everything was always anti climactic. But there was always a war which waged in between. What had Liz said, about little things leading to big ones? All of this had started because I'd written one silly sentence in that report about Josh. Now Josh was dead. A lot of people were dead. A war had brewed and died. And Gallagher had been burnt down to ashes. Cathy was dead. We were all moving targets. And another war was on the brink of raging. It had started with a circus. Now it was ending with a winter night. Between that lay seven and a half years of everything that had mattered to me.

"It's been far too long, don't you think?" Catherine said, conversationally. She didn't point a weapon at me, but I could see the gun she held to her side. Behind her, in the distance, the dark night was filled with smoke. The diner burnt. Dayna was in there. She could've died. Zach could've died. I could've died. I breathed deeply, grimacing at her.

"Yes, I believe so. It was supposed to be much longer but you got away," I replied.

"I never was good at sticking to plans that way." Her eyes moved from my face to my shaking hand, and then to the blood soaking over my shoulder and on my thighs. She cringed and it looked like genuine concern of a mother. Maybe in another world. But not this one. No, this was her doing. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"That looks nasty. You should get it looked at, dear."

"I'm not your dear. And this is your doing."

"I do love to take credit. But you're the one messing it all up again."

"I thought you didn't want a war."

"You're forgetting, Cammie. Nobody can be assassinated if they're already dead."

"And I suppose, I'm just a loose end you want to tie up?"

She smiled, a sinister smile just like her sister's. Vaguely, I wondered, if a smile like that would ever grace Zach's expressions. No. He wasn't a monster.

"Something like that. How's Zachary?"

"Alive, no thanks to you. You could've killed him tonight."

"He always did have a habit of running off to dangerous places. Even as a child, he was always braving the storms despite saying that they were scary."

"Maybe you should've taken a hint. Maybe you should've realized he was desperate to get away from you."

"Now, I think I did a decent job of bringing him up."

"He brought himself up. You just gave birth to him."

Her smile faltered, to my surprise. She closed her eyes, sighing. For one second, she looked almost tired. Tired of what? This was _her _work of art. Nobody asked her to continue it. She had no _right _to be tired of terrorizing us. Not when we were the ones suffering for it. But she looked no different than any other mother who had to watch their child screw their life up. She looked like _my mother _when I did stupid things. The similarity was creepy.

"No, Zachary and I have a very unique mother-son relationship. But he's still my son. Maybe you should ask him to tell you the story, some day."

"Not today. I'm not here to make idle chit chat."

She tilted her head.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"To kill you."

The words were a surprise to me. I wasn't sure I was even the one who said them. But they were in my voice and they came from my mouth. And, scarily, I meant them. I knew I had it in me to pull that trigger and end her life, for good. It was as if autopilot me and the real me were quickly becoming the same person. And, I realized, we'd never exactly been different people.

I could kill. I'd done it before. And right now, I'd readily do it again. Too many people had died for the Circle. Too many people had gotten hurt. Some, like Dr. Steve, had sacrificed themselves for it. Some, like my father, had become victims. Some, like Dane, had been lured and fooled. And some, like poor Dane's father in Austria, had just been a part of the horrid butterfly effect which the Circle loved to test, time and again.

Catherine grinned at me, sounding nonchalant. But I saw her fingers tighten over the weapon in her hand.

"Are you sure you can do that?"

She was calling my bluff. And that was her mistake.

I could see the memory play behind my eyes; a memory of a small cabin and tons of trauma. The tough rope around my wrists. The knife wounds all over my arm from my daily dose of torture. The way her minions assembled those rifles in the same room as me, as if hoping that I'd be tempted to join them. I'd always thought I'd learnt that from somewhere else as a method of self defense. But the memory in my head said something different.

The look in Randy and Catherine's eyes as their hands moved at lightening speed. Over and over again, right before my eyes, until my fingers memorized the movements. I'd never touched any rifle until that day in CoveOps. But I'd certainly learnt how to use a gun, thanks to her.

She was calling my bluff.

"You taught me, didn't you?" I hissed.

So, I took it. It took me a second to do it. A moment of hesitation, during which she raised her own gun. But even she wasn't quick enough. The shot crackled through the air and she looked stunned. It was irony that she bled in the same spot as her sister. I watched her drop her gun, looking down as if she was only studying her clothes. Her hand came to her stomach, where blood bloomed like a poisonous flower. She pressed her palm to it, looking back up at me.

I thought I'd feel remorse. But I didn't. I simply kept my shaking hands in place. Tears welled in my eyes as I watched her stagger from the pain. I didn't know if I'd missed her heart because I didn't have the right aim, or if some sick part of me wanted to watch her suffer before she succumbed. Whatever it was that had led to this moment - she was dying with a smile on her face and I was crying with her blood on my hands.

"Goodbye, Cameron."

Then she smiled wider and let herself fall over the edge of the cliff.

"NO!" I screamed, reaching out to catch her. But it was too late. My gun dropped from my hands as I vaulted forward, barely brushing her shoe as she fell. I watched her body break through the surface of the water. The night pushed the river faster, and I watched the waves foam and froth as they swallowed her whole. But I felt only discomfort inside me - and it had nothing to do with my wounds. Her first escape had been fire; now it was water.

Maybe a year ago, I'd have bid farewell and walked back to safety.

But I didn't trust her body where I couldn't see it.

I reached for the gun she'd dropped, tucking it deep into my jeans. I raised my arms, a muffled sound of pain echoing through the air.

Then I threw myself off that cliff for the second time.

* * *

The water was unforgiving. Icy liquid sheathed my burning my wounds, making them hurt worse. But I was not poisoned this time. And what was it they said about adrenaline and intent? Despite the seductive pull of the darkness beneath, I kicked upwards, breaking the surface. My arms immediately propelled me forward as I swam across the current. This was one of the first lessons we'd learnt. Not how to swim in a still body of water, like a pool. No - we learnt swimming in rivers. I was on home terrain.

Unfortunately, so was Catherine. But I kept my eyes peeled as I swam. How far could two wounded women go before the Potomac ate them and spat them back out? I could barely see past the darkness and the spray of water.

So, it wasn't my eyes which let me know where she was. It was the tug across my body which pulled me in a different direction than the one where the river was taking me. I felt myself getting pulled underwater as the water split in different directions. I could barely see through the murky waves, but when darkness descended I realized what was happening.

I pushed back to the surface, almost smacking my head on top of the tunnel. The water continued to push me through it, away from the wide river, and I pushed in the same direction. I could hear movements echoing through the narrow walls, along with the rush of the stream and I let my nails scrape the rough surface, in search of some kind of trapdoor or window. My foot caught a grill and I hooked my leg in between. A sharp tug on my ankle made me almost cry out in pain, and I dove under the surface, gripping the grills with my fingers. I let my foot loose so that it wouldn't break with the opposing forces. There was a small latch on the side that I opened, pushing myself through the narrow tunnel which split again. The stream pushed me forward, aiding me, until I reached a wide opening where various tunnels joined.

I grabbed the edge of a surrounding, makeshift walkway, pulling myself onto it before the water took me down. As soon as I was on solid ground, I gasped. My jacket was stuck painfully to my wounds. I was afraid of peeling it off. I coughed out water as I took in my surroundings. The networks of tunnels had led me into a wide juncture. On the walls, various openings rushed with water, including the tunnel which I'd just fallen through. All the liquid rushed downwards into a wide opening which I couldn't see the bottom off. But the echoing sound let me know that it would meet the river again. I leaned against the wall, on my side, hugging my body. I felt like I would pass out any second. But I couldn't stop moving - not until I'd done what I had to do.

The rough walls felt like stone, especially with the moss. I stared at the familiar plant, wondering where I'd seen it before. Then I realized. We weren't in tunnels near the city. We were in tunnels carved _inside _the foot of the cliff. I heard shuffling at the end of the corner, and I grabbed the gun tucked in my pants. I held it in my hands, keeping close to the wall until I turned the corner. The moment I did, I held up the weapon, keeping it pointed towards the crawling body in front of me.

Catherine was on all fours, a couple of meters ahead, leaving a trail of watery blood behind her. She must've heard me turn off the safety on the gun because she turned over. Her limbs gave away and she leaned against the wall, as well, breathing deeply. Blood stained her lips and her eyes were bloodshot.

I suddenly realized, I'd never seen her look so broken. My own words echoed along with the sound of the river.

_They're wounded, which means they don't care who they hurt._

I shook the gun in her direction, shaking my head with disdain. She was going to drag this out. She was going to make this last as long as she possibly could and I hated how much I loved her for it. Because if she didn't then she wouldn't be Catherine Goode. If she didn't then I'd never fully get over how fast everything was happening. I would never be able to process the fact that so much had happened and all it took was a matter of minutes for all of it to end.

Hitler died with a single gunshot. Just one bullet putting an end to all the horror that people had faced at his hands. I'd always found it disturbingly amusing until now. Because the idea of a tiny metal object ending something so big was...comical. It made no sense. And I hated not understanding things. The proof lay before me as Catherine clutched her bleeding body and lay against the wall.

"You can't pull that trick again," I called out, shaking my head. "You can't - You can't try to defy death again. I won't let you."

I felt tears run down my cheeks, but it could've been water, for all I knew. But my chin didn't tremble.

This wasn't the scared crying of a tired girl. It was the silent crying of a furious one.

"I had to try, didn't I?" Catherine wheezed. Her hand curled tighter around her abdomen. "We Goodes...we're survivors."

I shook my head.

"Not this time."

Catherine smiled a bloody smile, as if she was seeing through me. I hated it. I hated it because it felt like she was seeing a part of me that nobody else could see. She was seeing the baby monster she'd created and planted inside of me that summer. Now, as it reared its ugly head, she felt pride. Perhaps, Zach wasn't the only one who'd been brought up by her. Perhaps Zach wasn't the only one who'd been taught how to end life.

She raised a weak hand, pointing at me.

"There's the girl I remember. The killer inside you. You should've been a Blackthorne student. Gallagher was too nice for the pair of us."

I swallowed.

"Goodbye, Catherine. Go to hell."

"Are you going to kill me, Cammie?"

I hissed, not even hesitating to point the gun.

Because I knew I had no choice but to kill her with my own hands. Or she'd get away again.

This time, my arms didn't shake. My heart didn't pound. I was eerily calm.

"You know what they say. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice..."

And then I pulled the trigger.


	14. fourteen

**You guys are the best, yeah? I can't believe this is almost over and I love you guys for keeping up with my shenanigans :* You're the absolute best readers! Here's chapter fourteen, and the second last one. I'm extremely sorry for the long wait, though. My bad :/**

**Just one more to go guys, this is both saddening and exciting! I have it written out already, and will be posting it in a few minutes. So, my proper Author's Note will be on there. I love you!**

**And please do keep the gorgeous reviews coming, they really do act as encouragement!**

**- Brooke xx**

**Chapter Rating: T**

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Chapter Fourteen**

There was pain and coldness wrapped around me, keeping me under. It beckoned me into oblivion, wreaking havoc with my mind and sloshing me around like tempting waves on a summer afternoon. I didn't want to wake up, ever. Everything was soothing and haunting at the same time. My unconsciousness did a brilliant job of being absolutely horrifying and terrifically comforting, both the emotions keeping me reeled in and my eyes shut.

But I had to open my eyes.

I woke up dizzy, my eyelids painfully wrenching themselves apart. I tried to move but my body felt like it was made of jelly. My face was in a pillow. My stomach felt fuzzy, as if I'd been laying on it for days. I tried pushing myself up and groaned, falling onto the bed again. It was as if all energy had left my body; left behind on the shores of the sea that had beckoned me in my dreams. I struggled again, my arms twisting under heavy bandages, trying to support my own weight. I could feel scratchy gauze around my torso, underneath the minimalist hospital gown that had been put on me. It was irritating, but I somehow knew that ripping it away would cause me immense pain. I was too much of a coward to try.

"Calm down," came Zach's voice and I turned my head, letting my cheek rest on the pillow. He got up from the chair he'd been sitting on and occupied the space next to me. He looked tired and wary, not to mention the white gauze bandage wrapped around his forehead like some creepy headband. I smiled a little and he returned it. His hand came up to push some of my hair off my face.

I winced.

"How bad do I look?"

"Define bad."

I groaned, shutting my eyes and heard him chuckle a little. The last thing I remembered was...the cave. And the gunshot. And then everything going dark. My throat felt a little raw and I groaned, again.

"How did you - find me?" I whispered. He shrugged and pointed at himself.

"Spy."

I gave him a look and he sighed.

"You didn't think we'd just let you run after her, did you? Grant and Bex followed you to the cliff and then called in for search teams till they found the tunnels. I wanted to come but...they wouldn't let me," he said, pointing to the bandage on his head. I frowned, remembering my hysterics when I'd tripped over him at the diner. I'd have thought, then, that the roles would be reversed and he would be the one in the hospital bed. Then my eyes widened.

"Oh my god, Bex," I said, trying to sit up and then flopping down on the bed again. My stomach protested.

"Is she alright? She didn't -"

"No. She wasn't in the diner when the bomb went off. She's fine. Everyone is fine."

"And Dayna -"

"Needed a few stitches and is in observation. But conscious and alright."

"What about Elaine -"

"They kept her for a few hours because she inhaled a lot of smoke -"

"What about you? Are you -"

"Gallagher Girl," he whispered, putting a finger to my lips. I kept talking against his hand and he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of my head. He didn't move back, simply burying his face in my hair.

"Everyone's okay. We're okay."

"And Catherine?"

Zach went quiet for a few seconds and I shifted to get a better look at him. His face was blank but his eyes held an emotion that made my throat close up. He shook his head, acting matter of fact.

"She's dead. They've...her body is...there's going to be another burial, obviously."

"Zach -"

"She's dead. For good."

I scooted closer to him and he held my hands tightly. I wished he'd put his arms around me but judging by the state of my injuries, that would probably cause a world of pain. I simply let my head rest on his thigh, closing my eyes as he ran his fingers through my hair. I felt bad. I didn't know why. I mean, I'd _wanted _to kill her. But I still felt incredibly bad, especially since the adrenaline had all worn off and only left me here.

"She talked about you," I said. "She said you had a very different mother-son relationship."

"Talk about stating the obvious," he scoffed.

"Tell me," I said, looking up at him. "If you want to. Tell me."

"She was...my mother." He didn't add more to that but I think, if anything, that was more than enough. She had been his mother. She'd taken care of him and sang him songs and brought him up to be a fighter. Was she the best mother he could've ever had? Not even close. But she _had _been his mother. And he was still a son who had lost her countless number of times. I squeezed his hand and he chuckled humorlessly, squeezing back.

"How is everyone? I mean, other than being safe?" I asked, quickly shifting the topic.

"Shaken. Relieved. I don't know. None of us have been debriefed yet. And there's still a lot of things that need to be figured out. But...everyone's alright. I think that's all that matters."

"Is it really over?" I didn't mean for my voice to sound scared. But I couldn't help but sound like a child that had been left to run through a house of mirrors, finding shadows and deceiving reflections in every corner she turned. I'd always hated the house of mirrors, even when I'd visited it with my Dad. As a spy, he hadn't been fooled very much. But, as a child, I had. Now that I thought about it, I hadn't fared very well as an adult either.

"I think so," he responded, leaning down to kiss my temple. The hand that wasn't in my hair reached out to lace through my fingers, squeezing them.

"I mean -"

"Cammie...It's over. It's finally over," he whispered.

"What about the others -"

"We'll think about it tomorrow."

"But if they're out there -"

"We'll think about it tomorrow."

"But -"

"Tomorrow," he insisted, squeezing my hand harder. "Tomorrow. For now, we're here and we're okay."

I sighed, pretending I didn't have relieved tears in my eyes.

"I'm guessing my back is pretty bad if I'm being made to sleep on my front?"

He winced.

"Sort of. I mean...you were on the ground so it was a lot better than it could've been. But you did get pretty roughed up - especially with the water and exertion. Scarring will take years to heal. But...essentially, no long lasting damage. You got lucky."

"It happens from time to time."

"I know. Oh, I know," he whispered, and my mind went back to when I'd been shot before graduation. I'd managed to scrape through again.

I guess that's what spies did best. We didn't triumph. We didn't become victors. We weren't heroes. We were just volunteers on a mission that risked our lives just to get information. Sometimes we didn't make it back. Sometimes we did. Either way, we always did one thing.

We didn't fight. We survived.

And as always, we scraped through.

* * *

"You're sure you don't want to do this from a hospital bed?" Bex asked, holding my hand tightly. I sent her a glare, knowing that she of all people would understand the need to stay on my feet and keep moving. I awkwardly hobbled through the hallways of Henle Hall, my back stiff. I'd taken painkillers and spent pretty much a week in the hospital. I hadn't required surgery, but it had taken some time for me to be able to even get off the bed. Apparently, most of the damage on my body wasn't because of the fire (that had only caused second degree burns) but from jumping in ice cold water, right after. It was a miracle I hadn't been on the brink of death, because when they found me my body had already started to run into a state of hypothermia.

The whole time I'd been at the hospital, I'd been given frequent updates on how Dayna was doing, and how Alex, Craig and Aaryan were all under lockdown until they were debriefed, as well. I was sure I'd have to answer more questions _after, _when I was getting my own formal review done.

"I'm sure," I said, squeezing her hand. Some passersby looked awkwardly at me. The official story was that I'd been at the "fire" at the diner, so it was no surprise. I think people in my dorms were suddenly used to barely knowing me, and then suddenly associating me with a shooting _and _a fire. I smiled back, equally awkward.

"Why are we doing this _here _of all places?" I asked.

"Because," Zach pointed out. "Once their memories are reset, they'll need to be in familiar environment immediately after. Just as a precaution."

I nodded. Once we reached the door, Zach opened it and ushered us inside. At once I took in the crowd that was inside our quaint apartment.

There were agents standing against the walls, temporary locks installed on the doors, various computer sounds and conversations in the air. In the middle of the couch sat Alex, Craig and Aaryan, all looking around nervously. If the CIA and MI6 badges weren't scary enough, then perhaps our ease at their presence was. Craig suddenly shot off the couch, ignoring the way everyone tensed at his sudden movements.

"There. They're here. Can we place get some explanations now? It's been a _week. _A _week_!"

"Craig -" I started, shaking my head and he narrowed his eyes at me. I frowned as he tilted his head.

"Your eyes...you...they're not blue. Why aren't they blue? Are you wearing contacts?" he asked.

"No. I'm not," I sighed, but Townsend cut me off.

"I urge all of you to remain a little more patient until we deal with our end of the business," he said, looking at my civilian friends. They shared worried and impatient glances, before sitting down. Townsend crossed his arms as he stared at us. I suddenly realized the position we were in and straightened up as much as I could, looking as professional as I could.

Behind us, Grant walked into the room and stood beside us, sharing a look with Townsend.

"As soon as this room clears up and all of us walk out that door, you will no longer be students enrolled at Georgetown University, Agents Morgan and Goode," he said, leveling his gaze with ours. "Agent Newman will remain on campus until the end of the academic year. Removing too many students at once will raise suspicions."

"I'm staying with Dayna and Elaine, until they can give me a valid story for leaving," Grant whispered to me.

"As far as your classmates are concerned," Towsend continued, "your family pulled you out after the unfortunate incidents of the past few weeks, Agent Morgan. You transferred schools, and Agent Goode transferred with you. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Zach and I replied, in unison.

"Alright," Townsend nodded. "Catherine Goode is officially declared dead, and has been buried in her vacant plot in Virginia. Needless to say, this information will remain privy to those who were on this case. As far as anybody needs to know, Catherine Goode died in that fire years ago."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, agents, for your work."

"What about my job?" I asked. "I mean, am I still -"

"You will remain under suspension until you are given a clean bill of health, Agent. After that, we'll discuss this further."

I looked down, knowing that it wouldn't be a pleasant conversation. Even though I'd essentially helped put an end to Catherine - which proved me to be an asset - I was still volatile and vulnerable. I'd achieved goals, but I'd broken a lot of rules to do that. And broken rules didn't go unpunished. That was a lesson I learnt very early, since my mother is a headmistress. Protocol existed for a reason. When people broke rules, sometimes innocent people got hurt. I was lucky that hadn't happened this time, but it easily could have. I had made my own bed and soon, it would be time to lay in it. But that could wait. I didn't want to think about that right now.

Instead, I turned my focus to my civilian buddies. They were staring at us, wide eyed and shocked. Townsend signaled the rest of the agents in the room, who dutifully stopped looking like guards and immediately looked like college kids hanging around a dorm. In cognito. Then they shuffled out, as if a huge study group had just been dispersed. Townsend shared a look with Grant and then left. But not before calling out to Zach, Bex and I.

"I'll give you an hour. Then, we leave."

The moment the door closed, Craig shot up again.

"Explain."

I turned to look at Grant, who stepped forward.

So, explain we did.

* * *

We didn't hold back on anything. Not when we knew they'd get their memory erased anyway. Besides, it would be better for them to have definite facts in their head. Definite lines were easier to erase over blurry messes. Perhaps it was pointless, but it was cathartic. We told them our real identities. We told them why we'd come here in the first place. We even told them about Cathy, and what had really happened on the cliff and at the diner. It felt like it took hours of storytelling, but it really was just ten minutes. The whole time Craig, Alex and Aaryan sat staring at us, their mouths gaping open.

"..And that's that," Zach finally finished, turning to look at me. I'd taken my spot on the floor, sitting cross legged and back painfully straight, watching him and Grant narrate.

"Wow," Alex whispered.

"Yeah," Aaryan nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. Then he laughed.

"How is this funny?" Alex demanded, swatting his arm.

"Shut up, I thought the CIA were here for _me _or something. I'm just glad I'm innocent."

"Why on _earth _would they be here for _you_?"

"I don't know...immigrant? Not a white dude? How do I know how the CIA works?"

I shook my head, choosing not to comment on that. It wasn't my place. Instead, I just stared at Craig who was glaring at me. His expression was of anger, but his eyes showed pure betrayal. The deja vu of the moment hit strong, and I found myself looking at both Josh and Craig in that moment. I turned away but he stood up, crossing his arms.

"Was any of it real?"

"Craig -" I started.

"No, Lauren. Cammie. Whatever. Was any of it real? Was _anything _you told us real?"

"She _does _have a black belt in karate," Bex pointed out, ignorant of the tense moment. I threw her a look and she shrugged.

"_Karate Kid _indeed," Craig laughed, but it sounded a little cruel and wounded. "God, I can't believe I fell for someone who doesn't even _exist._ We let you into our lives. We decorated the best years of our youth around you guys. And you're telling us it was all fake?"

"Craig, calm down," Zach said and his eyes turned to my boyfriend.

"And _you, _Mr. Not-So-Russian. I let you live in my apartment. We gamed together. You watched football with us," he said, pointing to himself and Aaryan. "We trusted you like you were our own buddy. Brilliant. Good job, I guess. Are you two even really dating?"

Zach and I looked at each other, and nodded.

"Four years now, give or take a few months," I responded. Craig rolled his eyes, groaning. Alex stood up to put a hand on Craig's shoulder but he stormed off. He knew he wasn't allowed to leave the apartment so instead he just went to my old room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Alex moved to follow him but I called out her name. She gave me a look that said she didn't even recognize me.

"I'll - can I try talking to him?"

She clenched her jaw before sarcastically waving in the general direction of the rooms.

"Be my guest."

It took a little effort to stand up, and some time to actually go to my room. But the moment I closed the door, I knew Craig knew it was me.

"Shouldn't you be avoiding movement?" he hissed.

"I wanted to talk to you. Alone."

"Why?" he asked, whirling around. "What's there to say? Nothing you say can change the fact that one of my best friends isn't even real. You're not the person I thought you were. Not even close. You're never going to be Lauren Daniels. You never were Lauren Daniels. And I don't know what hurts worse. The fact that you're not her. Or that _she _isn't even a real person."

"But I am a real person. We're the same person."

He scoffed but I continued.

"So, she has a different name, and a different hair and eye color. So, she has different family members and different school friends and maybe she wasn't on the debate team. So what? It was still my emotions, my words, my thoughts. Doesn't that count for anything?"

He shook his head.

"If it weren't for the fact that you had an ulterior motive the whole time, then maybe it would count for something. But the fact that none of it was real overshadows all of that. Because you were never here to stay. You were just infiltrating our lives to get what you wanted."

"I didn't _pick _you to hurt, Craig -"

"And that just makes it worse! Because we were an assignment! We could've been _anybody, _as far as you cared. It didn't matter who we were. We were just collateral damage, right? We're always collateral damage in whatever you guys do."_  
_

I looked down, knowing he was right.

"I'm sorry."

"That means nothing to me."

"But I'm still sorry. I'm sorry you got hurt. I'm sorry you were dragged into this mess. I'm sorry that Lauren isn't real."

"No, you're not. You're just saying these things to make yourself feel better and unburden your own guilt. You don't really care what happens to us. You just don't want to feel guilty, so you just want to hear me say: _I forgive you. _That's it right? I'm the magical fountain you're coming to, just so you can wash away your sins? Is that what will make you leave? Fine. Then there. I forgive you. Are you happy now?"

"No."

"Well, tough luck, sugar."

I looked up at him again, and his expression wasn't furious. It was heartbroken. I felt my own heart break a little, which was a _bad _sign for a spy. I mean, we were supposed to be beyond this. I wanted to give myself the excuse of this being my first "real" long term assignment, or of them being a part of my life for so long. But all I could think was that, we weren't an agent and a civilian. He was my friend. And he was hurting. And I was the girl he loved. Except I wasn't.

"Craig...I _do _think of you as my friend. You'll always be my friend. You have to know that."

He turned away and I reached out to grab his wrist. He struggled to pull away but I didn't have to mind my strength anymore, so I kept a death grip around his wrist.

"Please, believe me. Believe that."

He sighed, but not out of exasperation. His face scrunched into an expression of pain and longing. I reached out and hugged him, with a certain degree of difficulty. Luckily, he had the good sense to not wrap his arms around my back. Instead, he put his hands on my shoulders, after hesitating for a few minutes.

"Why can't I be mad at you?" he whispered.

"Because you know, this time, I'm saying exactly what I mean. No lies. Not now," I replied, pulling away to look at him. He narrowed his eyes at me, reaching forward to twist a lock of my hair. Gone were the long, dyed brunette locks. While the dye still remained in my hair - albeit, faded - the long tresses I'd taken so much to effort to grow, had been removed. Most of the hair had been singed at the ends and, according to Bex, Macey had requested one of the best beauticians in Washington D.C to chop my hair. The woman in question hadn't even batted an eyelash when she'd had to work around a hospital bed. When Macey had arrived to inspect, she'd been pleased enough. It had been one of those rare occasions when we'd had a chance to meet, despite being in the same city for so many months.

"It's weird looking at your eyes and not seeing blue. It's like you're...fading out," he said, tapping the blonde roots of my hair. I smiled sadly.

"That's me. Cammie, the Chameleon."

"So...spy, huh? Is it as badass as it sounds in the movies?" he asked.

"I think the amount of hurt you're feeling right now is proof enough that it isn't," I said. He nodded.

"I need some...I need to wrap my head around it. All of it. You. Iv - Zach. Grant. Carrie - Cathy? Whatever. All of it. But...you owe me big for this," he whispered, a hint of his old mischievous smile back on his face. I knew him well enough that he was hurting just as much and was quickly retreating to his defense mechanism of choice - humor. I also knew him well enough to play along.

"At least ten movie dates," I nodded, fighting back the lump in my throat. Don't cry. Don't cry. He's part of an assignment. Don't cry._  
_

"Twenty, _minimum_," he corrected before moving to the door. I had my back to him, taking a shuddering breath.

"Hey," he said, just as he opened the door.

I turned around, raising my eyebrows, wondering what else he possibly had to say.

"Looking good, Morgan."

Then he left.

* * *

I found myself sitting on the edge of the passenger seat, the seatbelt pressing me into it uncomfortably. My nails were frayed from picking and the setting sun left a dangerously fiery glow over the dashboard. I heard the driver's side door open and Zach slipped into the car. He was faring much better and had even been deemed fit to drive. It was hardly fair. I felt like a damsel.

"I know what you're thinking. Don't. It's just until you're healed and then you'll be back in business."

I didn't respond to his commentary. Instead, I watched Grant bend low and press his hands against Zach's open window frame.

"Did you do it?" I asked, my voice low.

Grant nodded.

"Yeah. It took some amount of coaxing, and an attempt of Aaryan's to take over the kitchen duty. But they're all fast asleep, fed and exhausted."

And drunk. Drunk on that damned tea that always changed everything in favor of our business, and nothing in favor of our emotions.

"They'll be alright, right?" I asked. "You'll make sure of it?"

"I promise."

Then he pushed back from the car, waving goodbye before walking back in the direction of Henle Hall. I swallowed thickly.

Zach's hand reached over to squeeze mine and I felt my lips tremble. He pulled my fingers to his lips, kissing them softly.

"It's not supposed to hurt this much. It's not supposed to hurt at all," I insisted.

"Letting go always hurts, Gallagher Girl. And we have a long ride to deal with it," he reminded me.

"Where are we going?"

"You tell me. Where do you want to go?"

I paused, wondering. I could visit my grandparents in Nebraska, whom I hadn't seen in nearly two years. We could just turn in the direction of Roseville and visit my mother. But the idea of going back so soon after Josh's funeral was just too painful. We could drive to Blackthorne with Bex. But that wasn't entirely appealing. Bex? Yes. Blackthorne? Not really. We could drive cross country to California and visit Liz.

But despite all the options, only one image came to mind.

"Home. Take me home, Zach."


	15. epilogue

**Chapter Rating: T**

* * *

**Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice**

**Epilogue**

"But, I'm _telling _you. You've got to make sure the marshmallows are just the right temperature, or they'll just mess with the chocolate syrup and sprinkles," the young girl insisted. I laughed, digging my spoon into my modest tub of chocolate ice cream, that was only garnished with some Hershey's chocolate syrup. When she'd first seen it, she'd been horrified at the idea of eating ice cream without the garnish taking over more than half the bowl. Despite what the numerous cook books and dessert manuals in her kitchen said (courtesy of her elder sister) she was convinced that the absolute best way to eat any ice cream was with syrup, whipped cream, marshmallows and rainbow sprinkles. At least, I had syrup. Zach, who was in front of the television, only had a simple scoop, no garnish. I wondered what Ellie would say to that.

"What does Liz say?" I asked her, taking another bite. Ellie shrugged at the mention of her sister.

"Liz is Liz. She'll tell me how many calories I'm consuming and then dig in."

We both laughed. Ellie turned around as she heard a knock on her door. Her pale skin flushed with embarrassment as her mother demanded why one of her chores weren't finished. I pretended to be absorbed with my ice cream. Ellie shouted something back and then turned to look at me, nervously tugging on her blonde braid.

"Go, go," I insisted. "I'll talk to you later. Promise."

"But Liz will be back in five. Don't hang up!"

"Liz has been gone for twenty minutes. She'll call back when she's freed up," I smiled. "She's a busy woman, that one. You go ahead. I'll talk to you later Ellie. Give my best to your family."

"Bye Cammie. Say hi to Zach for me," she grinned. We both reached over to turn off the video call at the same time. Once the silence took over, I shut the laptop lid and walked over to where Zach sat. He'd already finished his ice cream and was eyeing mine. I rolled my eyes and made a show of selfishly hugging it.

"Oh come on, _one _bite -"

"You said it yourself. I could have everything that was left over. Consider it punishment for being so -"

"Giving."

"Dramatically giving," I teased, poking his side. He groaned, sinking lower into the couch. I lay my head on his shoulder, humming in satisfaction. The television continued to broadcast a soccer match and I gave up paying attention before I even tried to figure out what teams were contending for the winning title. Instead, I simply rested my feet on the center table, circling a beer bottle ring with my toe. I don't know how it got there with Zack being an incessant cleaner, and owning more coasters than possible. Outside the window, the Manhattan lights twinkled like stars that had descended to blanket the earth around us.

It had been exactly six months since we'd driven away from Georgetown University and taken the road to New York, back to mine and Zach's apartment. We'd found it soon after graduating from Gallagher, when Zach had found out that his job with the CIA ensured his home base be in New York City. He'd asked if I'd wanted to join and I hadn't given it as much thought as I ought to have. After all, back then, I'd assumed I'd spend the next four years in a college dormitory anyway. We'd simply found a classy but small apartment in a high rise. Our pay managed to keep it _just _affordable, especially since we split the bills. Not to mention, Mom, Joe, Townsend _and _Abby had insisted they all chip in to help us buy it. We'd both been a little offended by the prospect of so many adult figures swooping in to help out, simply because our egos were often too large for our own good. In our defense, it _was _pretty far fetched for them to help. But my mom was...well, my mom. And Townsend seemed to continually feel guilty of the fact that he hadn't been around to provide for Zach throughout his early years, attempting to compensate for it now.

Of course, we'd never paid much attention to furnishing the comfortable two bedroom. Zach and I were always on missions, or in D.C. But after being booted out of my job, temporarily, and losing my place as a student at Georgetown, we'd come back to our house. Sitting idle, waiting to heal, had not been on my agenda. And since I, apparently, had no vote in determining what was safe for me to do and not do, I'd taken up customizing the place and morphing it into our _home_. It hadn't been easy. The trauma, the left over memories, the pain - it was always plaguing us. That was an occupational hazard. There were late nights I worked, when he texted me frequently to make sure I was okay. There were days when he was away on business and I had to wonder if him not checking in was a good thing or a bad one.

But then there were days when we fought over what color the kitchen tiles really were. Or when we sat in front of the television, watching Breaking Bad reruns with take out and beers. Days when we went to bed early and woke up late, or nights when we just didn't sleep. Sometimes our mornings were filled with comfortable silence as we moved around each other, perfecting our morning routines. Sometimes our evenings were loud and bustling, as we subway hopped to destinations around the city and pretend to be Just Zach and Just Cammie - two twenty year olds who had enough money to buy a heap of hot dogs and sit in Central Park.

Now, six months later, it was finally starting to feel like it. Zach had resumed work within a week of coming back. I, on the other hand, had to wait three months for my wounds to be healed enough to go back to work. Of course, two weeks of that had been spent finding out what the Circle had been up to since Catherine's real death, answering questions during multiple reviews. It took some sweet talking on my part, and references on Townsend and Abby's part for them to finally remove me from suspension.

Since, technically, I was still healing internally and not being given any heavy duty jobs as such, I was limited to national crises. I didn't enjoy it while Zach got to go to many cities. His mantra, whenever he left and whenever he returned home, was: S_oon, Gallagher Girl. Soon, we'll be doing this together._

"What's got you so silent?" Zach whispered. I tilted my head to look at him. His hair was a colossal mess, sticking up in all sorts of directions. A five o clock shadow graced his jawline, his loose white t-shirt and flannel pants making him look like there was _no _way he'd been attending a massive black tie event only three hours ago. (This would be the moment he cleverly pointed at himself and said 'spy')

"Just...thinking," I responded, leaning up to kiss his jaw. He smiled, twisting his head to capture my lips instead. I groaned in pleasant surprise as he took the opportunity to kiss me properly, not even bothering to stop him from deepening it. He tasted like peppermint and chocolate ice cream, something that left my mouth tingling coolly when he pulled away.

"Thinking about what?"

"Us. Everything," I said, vaguely. He raised his eyebrows with a confused smirk and I elbowed his stomach.

"Um.._Ow,_" he groaned, patting the spot. I laughed. He gave me a devilish smirk, one that I knew all too well.

"Zach...no...Zach," I scooted away from him, but his fingers found my sides before I could even get up. I squealed with laughter as he tickled me, rolling around on the couch. He didn't let up, continuing to dig his fingers into my sides until I managed to maneuver my way free. Pinning his wrists to the couch, I straddled him, my hair a complete mess and my breath coming in pants.

He chuckled, not fighting me. Instead, he twisted his palms to interlink our fingers, yanking me close. I rested my head on his chest, tangling our legs together.

"This...this feels like home," I whispered.

I felt him kiss the top of my head.

"You say that every night," he reminded me, as if I didn't already know. I looked up, resting my chin on his chest. His eyes were on me, relaxed and perpetually concerned.

"I know. But - I just -"

"I know. I get it. We've been fooled into thinking things are sorted out, in the past. But this is different. She's gone and she isn't coming back. And the Circle isn't going to bother us anymore."

"But they're still out there, somewhere."

"Cammie," he sighed, pulling me higher up his body so that he could hug me comfortably. "We'll _always _have enemies. That's our job. It's what we do. We're never going to be free of them, and if we were, well...it'd be very dull, to be honest."

"I -"

"Hey," he said, tipping up my chin. "We'll be okay. It's over."

"You say that every night, too," I chuckled, pecking his lips.

"Yeah, well, I am quite consistent."

"And _special -_"

"Always _special -_" he nodded.

"And completely, devilishly - hey! I saw that," I said, sitting up, smacking away the hand that was sneakily grabbing the spoon in my ice cream bowl.

"I don't know what you mean," he faked, innocently. We both narrowed our eyes at each other, grinning at the same time and diving for the bowl. I won by a split second, grabbing it and shooting off the couch, already on my way away from the room. There weren't a lot of places I could hide in the apartment, but it was a matter of laughter and semantics.

So, I did what I did best. I ran away, through the hallway, my laughter echoing off the narrow walls.

And he did what he did best.

He was on his feet, running after me, his hand catching mine before I went too far.

* * *

**...And that's a wrap, guys. I am honestly overwhelmed by the response to this story. I really didn't think so many people would like it. Hell, I didn't think anybody would like it but you guys did. I want to extend my thanks to all the reviewers (both one timers and revisits), the wonderful people who sent me messages and chatted with me about the plot, as well as the entire GG fandom in general for collectively sharing with me the love for this series. I'll definitely be taking a little break from this story before I come back with outtakes and varying POV chapters that I promised. But until then, I'll still be posting occasional, independent works for GG. So, if you're interested, then do add me on your alerts (tsk tsk shameless self promo). Also, feel free to message me on tumblr at queerelenagilbert, even if only to gush about GG! **

**I have yet to read Heist Society, but I have the books. Let me know if the books are good?**

**Other than that, I have nothing more to say other than my deepest thank yous, and tons of love for all of you. For those of you who've been there from the start, I couldn't have done it without your encouragement. For those of you who've found me midway, you played a huge part in keeping me going. And for those of you who've found me only now, or will in the future, then let it be known that I'm waiting here to hear from you and what you think!**

**Cammie has been such a patient and cooperative muse and I can't wait to get into her head again. **

**One last time, I ask you guys for comments so I know I did justice with how I ended this.**

**Until then, tons of love and virtual goodies!**

**- Brooke xx**


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